She paints like she makes love,
her fingers know every stroke and
move by heart,
which the mind whispers to her soul,
— calculated turns.

She touches like she feels,
every curve and brittle of canvases,
she traces the dried paint and emotions in
its crannies,
she knows the texture and grain
of whipped colours on white panes
and walls,
she knows wrath, pain and bliss like
she knows the brush you gifted her on
her seventeenth birthday.

She sees like she wants to know,
know more,
your vulnerabilities and about everything
that makes your stomach churn and soar,
makes your heart beat faster and flood every pore,
her finger, first index and then middle,
snug together like a puzzle,
trace the curve of her neck to her chin
as she gazes on,
her face rested on her hands and eyes wide with pleasurable curiosity,
she learnt how to savour
everything and anything,
what most of you never would see.

When words fall short, she picks up a pen,
Oh, what fairytale she would write if the words were found,
but in her vocabulary,
where every thought reminds her of a hue,
a shade,
a taste,
a smell,
a texture,
no words made to explain.

She knows depth of your back, better than you,
and what you think, when her hands lay pressed to your skin,
she knows your taste
and your soul,
and she could paint a hundred words,
you wouldn’t fathom.
You want to disassemble her piece by piece and feel each,
contemplate its make and
separate all the tangerine, red, blues and greys and greens.
You can’t let go, because you want more of her mind and heart.
Do you know,
she makes love
………………………like she makes art.

Upasana is a 17-year-old high school student and design aspirant. She is a self-taught graphic designer and uses both poetry and art as her medium of expression.