You are art darling, lest you forget.

You are art darling…

The way you stretch the sanguine sculptural soft flesh skeleton boned limbs as you wake from dreamland, yellow crystalline sleep rocks in the corners of your eyes, stalactites from the cave of slumber.

The way you make that first cup of coffee and the hip jutted stance you take as you wait for the boil steam of the kettle The way you make eggs, poached to imperfect paprika-ed perfection, twist the orange globe pulped into sunshine’s juice, butter your toast, take a bite.

You are art darling…

The way you shower, suds soaked, sponged and washed, a body caressed, gasps and moans as water washes pleasure down your belly, your thigh, over your face, a holy purification a communion with liquid lusciousness, your own private peep show.

The way you dress, no one dresses like you, undergarments of silk or comfort, wrapping your form like quality street film. Colours of your own personal palette, the flair of your belt, the tied lace of your brogued boots, the swish of your suited swash as you sashay to the day.

You are art darling…

The way your feet tap the earth as A moves you to B and alpha bets you to make this day the day that rocks. The way your mouth moves in movie motion, the words that flutter the space…