Poem for the Day

Posted: 17 January 2017

Draw a line that is her breast,
Show the way she holds her weight.
Charcoal has a dusty smell...
As it's etched upon the page.
Take the time to see her jaw,
Feel the bite beneath her skin.
Teeth and muscle and bone create
The stillness of her chin....

It isn't how your hand moves
It's how you see,
It isn't the grade of the pencil
It's the line it leaves.
How your eyes trace,
Her body's solid grace,
That is the truth of a woman.

How the hip begets a thigh
Is the finest kind of spell.
Let your eye become your hand,
As you stroke her belly's swell.

It isn't how her heart beats,
It's the way it pulls her skin.
It isn't just the curve of a sigh
That does you in.
The scratchy sound her hair makes,
As you draw that place,
That is the truth of a woman.

The Truth of a Woman
Kristina Olsen

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