Cloth

The light catches sight of an alluring cloth, It’s color mysterious to the eye With a texture so defined, you dare not touch Lying across a pedestal, Just as Juliet lied in wait for Romeo, It rests poised and composed even in the face of death Fragile beauty beginning to melt, A ripple ignites a toll within The slightest movement heightened by a kindling flame, Wafting hints of pine wood above aim Ripples explode into a face, One that bears a misconception Sleek black hair curling into elegant waves, Piercing emeralds shimmer as, It rises to dance in the air with elongated limbs A message to mark its absence, One that only lasts seconds but stays forever Carved and engraved in the etchings of the past Dragged away with each outline to come Surrounded by towering sculptures. The cloth drifts to follows its design The beginning of its own thread, To trace a figure, the one with hands of black art Manipulating with in every fold, Cloth transforms to flesh. Unveiling a posture so amplified, Golden threads collapse down to wash over bare shoulders, Each finger pronounced with spacing The twist of the wrist beckoning While a slender waist sings a sirens call Out stretched arms longing to embrace, Each blink of the indigo eyes unseen, Opened wide to share what is underneath Exposing the true nature of what lye’s within The torturous desire to drown in ones energy The pleasure of each pulse as it passes, to revive millions of nerve endings Vibrating with heat, as hands strain to clasp Balancing the desire and longing as it stings Indulging in agonizing pain Oblivious as to what has already foreseen Bound in ties that allow rang, Only to snap back as bear traps clamp down Splitting fictional lips to release rouge droplets While the sculptures laugh lightly, Anticipating what will come nightly Watching as red ants return to split lips As hands unclasp to be empty once again And Twisted wrists nap contorted, caving in Slowly erasing limbs and tears that can’t fall The cloth rebounds itself into intertwined silk threads No prof of the once a defined body Its only remains that of single blond curl within, sleek black hair and gold specks within shimmering emerald eyes And a devilish grin that parts to remark ever so pleasantly Tee-Hee