Her body contained so many stories.
Every part of her has a scent.
Her entire body is a burial,
Artifice is her blanket.
Nothing is left as it is.
Her body is forced into
And then she invites them in.
Lovers of what is fake,
Those who agonise over the fragility
Boys and girls
Who don’t know how to play with each other.
She is naked and yet
Tries to hide from him.
He cannot understand.
It’s a no for herself, a yes for him.
And a million nuances in-between.
“Woman Wearing Hat with Black Ostrich Feather” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)