My arms will be a piano
for you to play the keys
I know they are hard
I'm sorry, there have been others.
my heart will be the drum
your feet will dance to
it is sometimes off beat
I'm sorry, there have been others.
My eyes will be your canvas
you can paint in them the stars
The darkness is already there
I'm sorry, there have been others.
my lips will be your clay
you will have to smooth out the rocks
I'm sorry, there have been others.
My body will be your artwork
you can put your autograph on the cover
I know there are other names printed
I'm sorry, there have been others.
The reason I made it a bit off is because I want the reader to feel how off it is. How off I feel after "there have been others", how off the person writing it feels...like a lover trying to explain how she can still be art even after having been used and chipped.