You are the muse of an artist, her source of inspiration and obsession. But the canvas betrays her. No matter how she paints, it’s never right. Your beauty refuses to be trapped in a frame. So, she abandons the painting and makes you the canvas. Her filthy little canvas. She covers your skin with paint and marks you with dripping wax, words scrawled in red lipstick, then seals them with her lips and body.