A Blank Canvas

A blank canvas,
Smooth and fragile
Safe and Sound.
Her fingers
Struggle to restrain
Red paint sears through
Smoldering,
Bleeding.
Crimson stream trickles down
The canvas is scarred.
The paint is remnant of
Pain , Passion
Lust , Longing.
Even after the paint fades
Perpetual perfection remains
An ode to the prestige of an artist.

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