Madame Tussaud's

she's a wax work
the very striking
image imaginable

but not
play dough
or even clay

yet
she stares
and stays that way

but my
fingers and
hands are hot

with
desire
as i place them

on her
left cheek
thinking maybe

once
a tear
but as i

feared
she melts
with my touch

so 
as a moon
i wane and wax
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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