Why did you chisel me down like a daydream mattered
more than me, words leisurely sharpened on the whetstone
of your tongue to shave away my Aphrodite stomach rolls,
pour rock, molten with your anger, down my throat to quiet me,
collapse my imperfections, all in search of making stoneflesh
divinity without the fundamental understanding that all flesh
is inherently divine ? The hunt for perfection consumed you
and the cost was parts of me crumbling into nothing, and now,
I'm left in the backroom of your memories, with all the other
things you played with too hard until they broke and haunted
you. I'm too big to fit in a box so you covered me up because
you're too scared to face me. You pretend I don't exist anymore.
But, tell me, when will you lift up the sheet and finally acknowledge
what you did to me?
...and why do I still want to look at you?
About the Creator
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab