what would it feel like to be a work of art?

To be still and quiet in a dark, climate-controlled room, a spotlight on your prettiest parts, black velvet  pooling at your feet

Hearing nothing but footsteps, and whispers, and the occasional chattering of visiting groups of children

To grasp a rose or a cup or a throat for eternity

Kissing forever, smooth as marble, the handprints of your maker still pressing into your sides


"... all my lovers were there with me, all my past and futures."

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