Aesthetic

You turned over on to your left side, as lies a fetus    
There painted before me were your contours    
exposing resplendent hints of your hourglass    
     
The subject being framed by your coarsely flowing    
raven hair, and by the entire back of your right arm    
Other supporting elements spoke from your    
benevolent and delicate palm and fingers      
     
There is a single spaghetti strap from your negligee    
laying diagonally, aimlessly over your olive skin    
pretending to support one of your melons      
Invisible to me    
     
The whole scene perfectly staged    
and posing like a Waterhouse goddess    
     
This purview has been fodder within the artist scope      
since the dawn of aesthetic sight. Yet    
it’s pristine view by this beholder of beauty    
as belonging to the one to whom my soul retreats    
becomes a single tear, and transcribed into    
this morning’s personal epiphany    
     
Let my love for you at this moment      
be rendered upon this canvas    
in the pensive hues of my feelings      
     
And let it be duly hung for every reality hence      
to look upon in museum-esque reverie      
from this day until the end of time and terrain