Charcoal scattered around the table
a canvas stands by the artist’s chair
He helds in his hand a picture of a girl
a smiling woman without fear.
As lines scattered along the canvas
shades of black and white invaded the white space
a smile was drawn from the frowning face saying
“A flower perfectly matches your name”
Darkness overruled the disheveled hair
Of the girl whom he ever thought.
Her eyes sparkle in the white canvas
and like imperfect stars, her teeth dazzle with the smile
The artist had knew she is beautiful.
He had created an obra maestra!
But then a thought came to him.
“This is not her. She is not real”
The artist tore his canvas apart
He punched through the thin white linen
Cut the threads and break the wooden frame
And burned every part of the masterpiece
This is not the beauty he saw.
It is not the beauty he wants to portray
For no artist could ever show
The beauty inside her skin.