PAINT HAD THE magic to lie.
It could hide sins, camouflage flaws, and create a masterpiece from imperfection.
Tonight, I was the masterpiece and was buckling beneath imperfection.
Naked and vulnerable, I stood silent as strangers sipped champagne and nibbled canapés. They smiled at my beauty all while whispering about my faults.
Only, I wasn’t naked.
I was caped in his art.
I was gowned in his brush strokes.
I was his design for all to fawn and judge.
And my creator hadn’t taken his eyes off me all evening.