I’m cold

So very cold

I have been called that again and again

By all the important people in my life

They say I am a block of ice

A tall, wide, freezing cold block

Yet why does that have to do with anything

I’ll find someone who can turn me into something they love

But time and time again that seems to be an issue

They say I am too brittle 

They say I am too stiff

They say I am too broad

They say I am too emaciated

They say I am too cold

Yet they say I melt too quickly and fall apart 

No matter what I do to change myself into something that someone wants 

No matter if I change the way I look

Whether I lose or gain weight

Whether I completely destroy myself and rebuild from scratch

The same thing comes up again and again

I simply have too many problems that no one can handle

Why can’t I be loved?

Why can’t I have a love like Galatea? 

Pygmalion sculpted her and loved her so that Venus herself brought her to life

Why can I not be like her

She’s smooth, beautiful, expertly designed marble 

With hints of white, grey and rich gold

Yet I am just a plain disgusting block of ice

Whoever said that even blocks of ice can be chiseled into something beautiful

Obviously never met someone like me

Not everyone can find beauty 

Maybe I should just melt away into a murky, grey puddle on the sidewalk after

An April storm so maybe someone could love me

Even if it’s just the worms