The woman stood bare, behind the silk curtain, her skin soft
She lay for her friend, for a voracious painting.
Both of them were nervous,
She nibbles her lip as she undressed.
Her friend prepared her paints, her stool, the pillows that her nakedness would soon lay upon.
The woman shivered and thought deliciously
‚My mother would kill me for this'
Stepping forward, into the candlelight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem