I Cut Up Her Face
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In my chamber
Of artistic endeavor
She sits on a chair
Unmoving
Like a block of stone
I with chisel and knife
Cut her up
Piece by piece
She is stoic
She never cries
I see no pain in her eyes
Gently, I carve her in my vision
I will mold her
I will hold her
I will told her
Stories of my past
She will be my prisoner
Of the heart
She has no where to run
I have no where to hide
Love
Stone cold
Emotions warm
In Silence
We both mourn
The histories
The stories
The memories
My love I created
In Stone
I have her on display
For you too, to see my suffering
I am the sculptor
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2015
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