Marble
I am cold. So cold, marble in the shade. I know why I feel this way. I am
alone, waiting to be touched and held.
I am your creation. You carved me from this marble, you shaped me into this
thing you see before you.
You made me. You made me love you.
Love me. I am your creation. Breathe life into me. Make my breast rise and
fall. Make me smile, make me cry.
I am moved by your smile. I know you could never be smiling at me, but I
like to hope. Your smile warms me more than the sun ever could.
I hear your voice and my spine tingles. I feel I could fairly fly as you
continue to shape me, your creation.
It is rumored that woman was created from man with love. I know that to be
true, for how can you create me, who loves you, without feeling a sliver of
what I do?
Michaelangelo commanded David to live. Will you do the same to me? Am I the
one you made to love you forever? I do, you know.
It has been months since you looked at me. I crave the sound of your voice.
I fear I have dreamed this all.
Do you avoid me because I don't live? Were you to command me, I would. I
would live for you.
I have lost count of the days since I last saw your smile. It seems even
the sun has forgotten me. Though you cannot see it, I am weeping bitterly.
The others hear me, and they understand my pain. It seems you have done
this before.
I no longer hear, nor see. I am what I always was. I am marble, cool and
smooth. This agony I am feeling-did the others feel it too? Am I only
marble to you?
Did you ever love me, or was it only my imagination?
I am crying now as you shut me away into my coffin. I loved you.