He inked her jet lines and shadow to contain what was meaningful.
He stained her crimson for love… desire… and power.
He injected into her soothing hues of cool cobalt for loyalty and confidence.
He etched her flesh in saffron and ginger for energetic optimism and hope.
He infused pools of white into her skin for light… and goodness.
He scratched amethyst into her for mysteries dark… and magic.
He marked her with the greens of life and ambition and the promise of peace.
He saw his masterpiece complete already through his mind’s eye,
Splayed out on his bare and breathing canvas.
And through the evolution of his palette, and the conduit of violence
Both the artist and the muse were set free.

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