Perfect marble, silky cusp
Icy fingers, flaming blush;
Lustrous hands, something new
to show heaven's living proof
Quite enamoured just from you
so here is what I made of you.
This is my intense creation
The ideal lover, the faultless friend
whose pieces I put
back together again
Dainty cheeks,
ingratiating lips,
ready for a brand new life.
And suddenly I was revered
as a great illusionist.
Static statues, suspended
in the cold air of a museum exhibition.
Eyes that watch the little corners
of the room with inhibition,
enduring the toils of breathing, of sentience,
of carrying a pulse.
Of being.
Almost being.
My craftsmanship is excellent,
because I want to heal.
These people I have forged from stone
have finally made me feel.
But they're just fragments from my head,
figures now congealed.
They're just visions from my bed.
Why can't they be real?
YOU ARE READING
too young to be this sad | poetry
Poetrythe thousands of colours, dreams, and thoughts running to me at 2am, condensed into a little garden of poems and prose. ・・・・・ ✁ - - from the author : this is my first piece of work on wattpad omg i'm scared i hope you all enjoy 🥺🖤
