Masterpiece
I am small, so, so small
When I speak, chalk dust comes out
Do you see its color?
I tell myself that my wounds are the most lovable parts of me
But do you love them?
Or do you want to polish them away, my dark, ugly hues of grey and black and swirling blue?
Would you rather the dust that chokes out of my throat be the remnants of me?
The bad me.
The one you never wanted in the first place.
When a sculptor makes a beautiful piece
He says he saw it all along
From that block of marble.
Is that what I am?
A masterpiece trapped in a block of marble?
Something that could be so beautiful, so desirable, so worthy
If you chipped away at my immaturity,
If you chipped away at my annoying tendencies,
If you chipped away at my co-dependence?
I can’t speak because you’re already starting to chip away
Chip away at who I am
But the remnants can’t go away
They’re choking me, the dust that comes out just settles over me
My tears plaster them in place.
Do you love me, or do you love the masterpiece you’ve envisioned?
I want, I want so badly to be that sculpture
But I can’t stop choking on the dust of his creation