painter's intentions

on a wall in the sun
she slowly fades to a regal pale
but lustour remains
in copper eyes ,
her limbs stretch from frame
to frame
misty garments cover and reveal
perfection in the painter's
'exeriences noir'

in that painting
that beautiful painting
she sits and waits
for fame, for fortune,
for a lover's whisper

his breath is slow
like thick paint across canvas
a dim detail here
a fantasy there
curtains rustle in the frozen scene
but it's just a pretty face
someone to sit quiet
as men gaze with eyes
unflinching
she reclines in a state of unease
but no one would know

in that painting
that beautiful painting
she sits and waits
for fame, for fortune
for a lover's whisper

but all that remains
has lost it's color beneath the dust
and a flame goes out
between sight and knowledge
her curves are still
as are the painter's intentions
the night is done she wept
while streets empty and fill
her way is found back
to a cold room of one's own