monksta

she stuns the suitors with her
whirlwind of fabric,
shaping the wind around her
into shapes of feminine legs,
and curves, and hips, and breasts,
she is rapture.

they stare at their blank boards,
and try to recreate her movement
with paint and brush but the ink
just drips haphazardly to the canvas,
their eyes frozen

her eyes frozen
she doesn't want a single one.