I am carrying a statue.
Pebbles are falling off.
The stone is my body.
The engravings -memories- are red and so loud.
He who wants a beautiful figure,
has to ache for it.
When the chisel kisses the rock.
When flesh embraces agony.
I give away my body.
Images to me so familiar and frequent.
I etch your name on my skin.
Out of the boulder, water floods.
Deeper, within my pores it boils.
And you are here forever
Death cannot part us.
And if you depart,
I look for someone
with the same name.
YOU ARE READING
Fiendish sculpture
PoetryBestow a skilful sculptor blunt chisels and he will carve permanent scars into granite.
