"art, speaking"

under a golden chandelier

the light illuminated the history painted on your face;

brush strokes retelling stories of you:

bitter and melancholy,

beautiful and foretelling.

your bones creak as your hands, sculpted from marble

caress my fading face.

you don't know me but you want to,

all the parts of me hidden under the varnish.

maybe you can tear away the layers,

restore me without destroying me.

maybe you'll be the greatest artist that ever lived

if you can make me beautiful again.