I’ve captured him in bisque and beige
With buff and taupe highlights;
Duvet - draped across his hips
Hinting at concealed delights.
He lies upon the bed
Stubble shadowed on his chin.
The flash deep in his eyes
Says he’s thinking about sin.
The early morning light
Spills warmly o’er his form
Caressing - clefts and hollows
In the room that they transform.
Limp white sheets lay scattered
Rumpled - on the floor.
Long fingers lightly touch his thigh
Waiting to explore.
You can barely see my silhouette
As I stand, just out of view.
But you know that I just left him
For he’s bathed in passion’s dew.
The walls are painted red
Reminding me of fire
They stimulate the senses
And fan our vast desire.
I’ve captured him - immortal
In this moment built a shrine
A painting of the perfect man
Love - saturates each line.
Patricia Gibson-Williams
September 22, 2004






, Olivia


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