Galatea

Photo Of Fu'ad Aït Aattou
I lay, He gaze. Her epitome is on display His sensuous length, on a poised exhibit. He stands intimidated and timid.
She laid waiting, A coquette portrait. The first draft Without finishing touches; She embody layers of ink, and synthetic dyes Her rough edges, appears in her plaintive eyes.
While he's dapper in oil
Already desensitized Modernized in appeal, for the general populist But still They synchronous, in a scattered etch of what's real.
His face laced with beauty And, hers extremely bizarre- Her touch lingers with shivers, crowns and covers his artistry, and, his heart. His breathing layers heavily Transparently, and quietly
But with the means, of art. While, her cries, stiffs on her face, as an Alla Prima- Their mouth opens wide, into a deaf-less- OH!
They create still-less tempera. Strangely, and oddly
She knows
Pygmalion could'n't have made him better.
He's decorated as a centerpiece.
One creative in the eyes,
Splendor into divine.
A beauty that can be only created with hands.
She dreams Soaking in the moment Drunken, speaking belligerently He holds her close Seeing her shedding away, deliberately.
In and out of unconsciousness.
Inhibited inane, yet still so alluring- His limited words were slurred, while, admiring the gage Eyes vaguely maneuvering holding its intense gaze Savoring the reverie He adoringly held her near
She's enthralled, by his simplistic debonair She closed her eyes, and breathed in his scent.
Their fingers stretch so far in a chiaroscuro display,
Before she's was once erased- away- Blended into the darkness
They stood craquelure
They stood, and erased away
They stood cracked severely
Broken down, separated harshly
Distantly from each other
Sullen eyes from their lover
Now
Stretched in and out of sleep.

She sleeps He only invade her dreams- Her eyes open wide There stood her lover of her dreams-
As marble
As rock
As crystals
As a beautiful coliseum. She's succumb to daydreams He is the one, she wants The one she needs, Her one and only
Her Galatea
By Nailah D'arcy

Amour Toujous Nailah D'arcy

If you're curious, I written this over "Waltz for piano No. 9 in A flat major ('Farewell' / L'adieu') Op. 69/1 (posth.), B. 95" By Frédéric Chopin