XLV | Someone I Painted

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I've decided
to keep a notebook

from now on—

to remember.

Today, I write:

Tammie asked me to
pole dance with her.

I said I'll think about it

but I've already decided
I don't want to.

How do you want to paint me?

Tammie asks,
hanging from the pole

by her legs.

Her shirt
rides up her chest

(almost coming off
completely),

so she holds it up
with her hands.

Her cheeks are flushed

from the blood
flowing
to her head.

I'm not talented

at painting
or anything

so really,

it doesn't matter

if she sits still
or continues dancing—

but
I tell her

to stay in that position

until I'm done.

She giggles
like it's the most exciting thing

ever.

A bit of red, orange, yellow
with a sea of white—

her skin colour.

A bit of black, yellow, green
with a sea of brown—

her hair colour.

I paint her
right side up,

smiling,

face tainted pink,

limbs healthier
than they really are.

[Read the full story at novelconbini.com!]