Cordelia

Cordelia lies on silk her skin as white as milk, supported on her side, hand held to her hair. She poses all the while, with enigmatic smile, she gazes long and wide, at things which are not there. Cordelia dreams away as naked as the day, brushes dipped in oils then to the canvas pressed. She doesn’t move an inch, does not flicker, does not flinch, her hair like golden coils cascading to her breast. Cordelia froze for hours, her sex that so empowers the intellect and heart, her body realised. She hardly seems to breathe, and all that see believe when she becomes their art she is immortalised. Cordelia hungers deep with secrets she must keep, and paints orgasmic fires with brushes of her own. She is a true abstraction, a beauteous abreaction, and all that she desires is all she’s ever known.