she peeled strips of flesh off of my chest and drew in my blood on the sheets we lie upon

sketching vistas of pain and pleasure upon the egyptian cotton as i tremble in rapture

she picks apart my failings with a practiced hand and finds beauty in my hidden parts

my body is her canvas and her art is exquisite as she brands her fingerprints onto my soul

we make music like a chorus of damned souls with a window into the heaven of her heart

she digs inside of me and pulls out the things she loves, leaving them bare for the world to see

completes me by ripping out my secret wants, giving purpose to the atrophied organism within

she peels strips of flesh off of my chest, painting works of art on the sheet on which we lie