what i need you to etch in me...
i haven't got room for the carving...
the cuts...
the grooves...
the man who'd risk my beauty rather than keep his tools sharp...
the way the chisel hardly breaks the surface
and yet my tears are quickly eroding me as if i were made of limestone...
as if the man was a raging river...
as if the only unique thing about me is that i am sedimentary...
leaving myself behind in piles and heaps...
to keep someone else's land fertile...
to help someone elses flowers grow...
shaped into a cavern or figurine
i am still not the sum of my parts
i am a sculpted creation
made with someone else's best interest in mind...
when all i want...
is to be something beautiful for you...
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