|Madam Blue remix|
Lines, black on white, lines that curve, graceful and smooth, lines that connect that, define, that fill the empty spaces.
Lines Stacked one upon the other, slowing becoming... Something, slowing becoming you.
First your hair, black, gold and red like fire, strands of silk, slipping through my fingers, lines I touch, lines that grow.
Now your face, round and smooth, the perfect place for red dripping lips and black hole eyes.
Character so rich and heavy that your long slender neck can not hold it, and must bend to the right or the left. Unseen forces, magnetic pulls, deciding the angle and direction.
You are here now, on my paper, only lines upon lines, but to me you are...