You begin as an empty canvas:
blank, bland, boring.
I paint in vivid colors,
the red of love,
the white of terror,
browns and yellows seeping out of you
like accents
filling up the empty spaces.
I paint in vivid sounds,
the whimper of fear,
the screams of anguish,
grunts and sighs escaping
like whispered prayers
as you succumb.
I paint in vivid touch,
the bite of passion,
the burn of necessity,
each mark a reminder
like string on a finger
of how special you are.
You have transformed into a masterpiece:
grand, glittering, grim.
Only now do I feed.
Author’s Note: She’s not a monster, just an Artist.
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