A man lives inside my skin.
He's naked and taut.
Graceful and powerful.
Poised like a panther on the spring.
When he speaks, I feel like the block of marble before the masterpiece.
In need of sweat and hours.
The careful eyes of a master.
He lives there, waiting.
For an artist.
With the courage to carve.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment