The voyeur of utter destruction

a cast iron bath with a high rim which curls over like the curve of her lips
a room of exposed stone walls
twighlight setting in, the impending night glowing behind her sillhouette
hair golden as those fields of wheat. Dark wet strands sliding down her shoulders
the wheat sways. Sways in the breeze
the dry hair lifts with it. The wet hair immobile

she turns towards the window. I catch a flash. A twinkle
her earlobe holds a jewell. A pinprick of a diamond

her arm lolls from the tub; a graceful sweeping expanse of cream. Flesh curving from shoulder to wrist
idly she strokes the iron rim, mottled imperfections beneath her fingertips
she sinks below the water causing steam vapours to rise and twist against the breeze

elle emerge
hair plastered to her head. Sleek as a seal
she leans forwards. A stretch
rivulets of water drip from the tip of her nose, the jut of her collarbones
the dark spikes of her damp eyelashes contrasting with the silvered skin of her cheek
she dips her head
in reverence to her surroundings? All that beauty
From the lone freckle of her leg to the wrinkles of her toes

Ziggy played guitarrrrrraaaaarrrrraaaarrrrrr.

Title: The Voyeur of Utter Destruction (as beauty) by David Bowie

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