rose

draw me like one of your French girls
on the page i am prettier
you get my nose wrong
but i forgive
posed as your muse

i admit amusement of your craft

appreciation of creation

we similarly worship
yet under this holy light
of your inspiration, i radiate
nothing but a flat draping of skin

you capture me
trace the edges
of my boundless existence
onto some foreign medium

then bow in inflation

stab your flag through my flesh 

in conquest of beauty

weaponize the arts
to imitate intimacy

you hang that frame of me
hostage above your bed
a forged vision
of a girl you never met