Sing to me
Like it's killing you
To hold in what you're feeling.
Let go.
Chip away at stone
Until there is nothing left
But the skin and bones
Of my soul.
Stroke your brush
Across rough canvas.
Raise waves of paint.
Make me rise from your mind
As you see me.
And I will look at you
Through the eyes of a muse
Gazing on her own beauty
Revealed to the world by her viewer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem