Journal Entry - If I Were

Dec. 7  
 
As my head rested on his chest, I looked down across the span of Joseph’s body, so lean and firm. While listening to his breathing, I thought to myself...  
 
If I were a painter, I’d paint him, dipping my brush in the hues of the emotions that swirled around us, creating a canvas that mirrored the depths of our love. Every stroke would be a testament to the beauty he shared with me.
 
If I were a sculptor, I'd sculpt him, molding him from the finest clay, shaping each contour to capture the essence of his being. The cool touch of the purest clay would echo the silkiness of his skin against mine.
 
If I were a photographer, I’d photograph him, freezing us in time, capturing the shadows and light that danced across his body. Each snapshot would hold pieces of his story.
 
I have none of those skills, but I am a woman, so I'll make love to him.