Artfully Advanced at Not Attaining Me

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I feel your breath engraved on my neck
Like the etchings of charcoal on canvas
Splintering shades of dust have left me a wreck
How can any artful amateur stand this?

It is obvious; my limbs are chiseled out of leaden stone
Once wet paint, chips off the tip of my tongue
Molten clay streams hot through bone
Adorning your sculpture, my organs are strung

I suppose you should be glad to know
Your artwork is the most alluring collage
How ever did you weave such emotion-you pro
Oh wait, you recycled me, but I’ll only leave you my mirage





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