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



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

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