Everything is Colorless

Woo. I'm am trying here. I am open to any criticism, on account of this is a revision of a paragraph I wrote, which I have done many times before...

Everything is Colorless

Her shadowy back arched slightly.
Her milky thighs touched one another,
Elegantly crossed.

Wedged between her finely illustrated
Lady-like qualities,
Rested an extraordinary sadness

Hiding behind her eyes,
Drunk in lust and ecstacy and sorrow,
A weak facade to hide a passionate burning in her.

Curly, ashen hair fell around her shoulders,
Full and provactive, dwindling down
To her lower back,

Darkened, shaded, and worn
Of smudges of mistakes
And unruly eraser marks

Everything is colorless.

Like branches in a storm,
Her face could easily sway
Or wear away with eraser marks,

But the only thing
That can make her physique lost luster
Is the sensation of evil destiny - the knowing she will never be.

And when fingertips trace over her
Perfectly detailed body, overwhelming
And inadvertently exquisite

They'll say, "God graced the race of men
The ecstacy of holding the body of a woman in their arms.
Women with graciousness, lighthearted smiles,
Or even a considerate kiss; a mother's touch,

Women so extraodinary, they don't even know it.
They see ugliness in their reflection
And they go on in blissful ignorance.

That makes them grand."

Wow, Jess, this is the best poem you've posted so far.

It was elegant, like pure magic.

The meaning, the words, the emotion behind it all was so mind-blowing.

It's pure perfection. You got your point across and have me at a total loss for words.

Hiding behind her eyes,
Drunk in lust and ecstacy and sorrow,
A weak facade to hide a passionate burning in her.

That was my favourite stanza. Especially the second line. It's formed in such a way that it weaves magic in the minds of the masses.

This is just...I can't begin to describe it in words, may I steal yours?

I think 'burning inside her' would've sounded better.

But I really liked this. I agree with Golden Heartstrings, it really did have an elegant quality to it, something which made it sound like real poetry.

Curly, ashen hair fell around her shoulders,
Full and provactive, dwindling down
To her lower back'.

Those lines were just awesome. I think this is one of my favourite poems at the moment - it's not the best by any means but there's something which I absolutely adore about it.