If I could create you as an object, it would be fashioned of marble. Cold and stoic. Heavy and immovable. Your eyes would be carved of stone and staring into the distance; no matter which angle I stood, they would not meet mine. I would caress your crevices and feel the cold emanating from your smooth skin, in a desperate attempt to warm your core. I would fail in this epic tale. I would wind my fingers round yours and you would refuse to mold with mine. I would break a piece of you off, to show my dismay, and tell you, telepathically, I am taking you with me; in your silent protest, you would be my hostage, made of stone.
 I would tuck you in my pocket for the day, and take the piece of you out, and feel the jagged ends, on which you broke off, and feel the sadness of knowing, you are with me, only through thievery.
 I would put you in my purse, and in the coming weeks and months, feel you at the bottom, among loose coins and chewing gum, scratching my fingers, reminding me, you are with me still, in the stillness of a stolen stone, and you could feel my sadness, of being your hostage.


I don’t believe you will ever love me, as I’ve loved you, as you’ve loved another…it leaves me worn when the days plagues my thoughts, and banishes my peace…it pries my lids in the late evening hours, it leaves me a skeleton, in my own being, with a realization, it can come undone, at any moment, I breathe.
Why I could not be the one, to light your soul, and brighten your eyes, eludes me..Do you not know, I suffer the same symptoms, of panic and despair, the ones I comfort and hold you through, is an affliction, you return?
If I just break this bond, shall I then sleep in peace, knowing it is unleashed, and the suffering shall end? This bond, did it only live in my mind?  It was hidden and covered by was denied of an existence. The memories, manufactured, left insolvent, only a shadow, in someone else’s sun.