Nude showered with Rose Petals

Graffiti Grace She stands where concrete meets the sky, A mural’s whisper drifting by. Gold and blue in tangled spray, Urban dreams that fade to day. Her silhouette, both bold and bare, Defies the chill of city air. A river hums its quiet tune, Soft beneath the afternoon. Steel and stone, yet life breaks through— A pulse of art in every hue. She is the stillness in the storm, A rebel heart, a human form. Not lost, but found in painted light, A fleeting truth, a silent fight. Between the chaos and the stream, She holds the edge of someone’s dream.

"Velvet Hour" She lounges in the velvet hour, Where shadows bloom and bodies flower. A hush of lace, a breath of skin, The night begins where she lets it in. The room is dressed in candlelight, Each flicker teases curves just right. Her gaze—a dare, her pose—divine, A glass of red, a hint of wine. Something whispers down her thigh, A promise wrapped in satin sighs. The mirror steals a glance, then fades, Outshone by how her heat invades. She is the art, the frame, the flame, A whispered moan, a whispered name. No need for words, no need for rush— She paints desire in every hush.