The Photographer
by libera
Posted: Monday, October 25, 2004 Word Count: 98 |
The Photographer
He studied me closely
with keen attention to detail
looking out for every shade, line and contour
until he captured the perfect intimate moment
soon to be recorded in history.
I could feel him watching me -
his seducing lenses penetrating my skin
as I anticipated the heat of that blinding flash,
and the split second when I would close my eyes
blush, laugh, fidget – all in a single snapshot
as he undressed my whole being, my soul.
Then finally, imprisoned by his eyes
I would be totally his.
First his subject. Then his art.
He studied me closely
with keen attention to detail
looking out for every shade, line and contour
until he captured the perfect intimate moment
soon to be recorded in history.
I could feel him watching me -
his seducing lenses penetrating my skin
as I anticipated the heat of that blinding flash,
and the split second when I would close my eyes
blush, laugh, fidget – all in a single snapshot
as he undressed my whole being, my soul.
Then finally, imprisoned by his eyes
I would be totally his.
First his subject. Then his art.