My Final Masterpiece
I have you here tonight, on my canvas, lying bare and stark, as you let me put the colours onto your body in a reckless need for your entirety. I can see your nakedness, the brutality of your form, and I remember how it was to love you. I remember how your lips drew close to mine and how we shared the same breath; how finally, your boldness struck me hard and filled my mouth with your tastes and sensations, divine in every form. I remember the strangeness of our love and the frantic rush in our muscles. My lips immersed themselves in yours, straying down your neck as I felt your pulses throbbing with vigorous unrest. Tonight I shall colour your lips red. Tonight, I shall stroke your chin with my passions while you sleep in silent cruelty; and when you wake up, you shall find my love in colours of the deep. My mind now reforms the moments how my lips trailing down your body could sense the changing tastes of your skin, eased and brave and musty and scared. My touch created ripples of goosebumps all over you, leaving trails and marks of my love, as I felt your form, from your breasts, down to your belly, and then below. I could sense the chills, as I tasted your every corner, your every depth, your entire fullness as you let down your walls and strayed away into another dimension of unfamiliar pleasure. I felt it happen. I felt you drift away from me and yet remain so close to my soul.
And in that distance, the enticing urge to bind you in my safety overwhelmed, as I felt your love secretly drip onto me, in your rhythmic tremors. Keep your eyes closed, Maitrey. Let my brush carve the contours of your skin and your shadows and your organs and your smile, and when you wake up, you shall find me in the corner, standing brave and bleeding profusely without the slightest hint of pain, loving you still. I felt your aggression, your frenzy and your passion as you kissed me like it was the last moment to love. Like letting me go would end our entire existence of togetherness. We lay wrapped in each other’s arms, our naked skin pressed against each other’s, our tongues drowned in each other’s mouth, like famished beasts. As I let myself inside you, I could hear your heart pounding wildly against the walls of your chest. It’s strange how the most intense of ecstasies lie in such a primitive attachment of organs, in such bleakness of biology; and how we allow ourselves to be devoured by this most physical of sensations, all the while being poetic only about the joining of our souls, and not of our bodies.
Tonight, I shall colour you with my love, Maitrey. And you shall feel my finger-bones smudging against your body with vile spirits, scanning through the edges and the voids and the empty crevices, wandering like in frantic excavations for your soul, and you shall finally know how it is to be stripped, devoid of all façades, and loved in the wildest of human fashions.
Wake up, will you, my love, and witness my final masterpiece!
Image credits: Sandipan Bhattacharjee