We all want to be someone
carved into stone—
assured in our identity
by the admirer taken enough to
etch our jawlines into eternity
from the heart
of a marble slab.

If you work on me as Michelangelo,
I will proudly stand as your David.

Admire the proportions, the features, the confidence.
These are supposed to define the ideal male.
These things have nothing to with my perception of ideal.

When I put myself in that position
I call myself Michelangelo, David in front of me.
I admire his proportions, his features, his confidence.

I throw myself so far into the fantasy, reality becomes a fog.
Enamored by him, his features, our closeness.
I am entranced by him, we transcend into the unknown.

I return to reality, and realize that I've gone too far.
I can't take back the words I've said,
or the time I've spent staring into his eyes.

But I'm no Michelangelo and he is not David.
My inspiration is much closer to my heart.

The love in my heart.
The passion beneath the gaze.

26 | 31 Poems for August

I am a blank page, craving for your ink to bleed onto me.
Your thoughts and secrets are safe with me.
Chain yourself to the idea of freedom and slowly begin to liberate me.
Metaphors and similes hit the page at extremely high velocities.
People should often see your pen in motion, you write your poems differently.
It’s fascinating how you create poetry out of silence.
I’ve felt you, seen you give life to things like love, pain, peace and violence.
As soon as inspiration ignites, you gradually begin to write late in the peaceful hours of the night.
Everyone knows that your words and verses tend to excite.
The day your muse realised that words could touch her, she wanted to become a poem.
The type of poem that Maya Angelou’s ink always dreamt about.
Keep respecting your craft, make it more constructive.
Live life and regret nothing, be completely destructive.
You have spent endless nights, hopelessly staring into the void that you are constantly trying to avoid.
Your mind is constantly being filled up with possible poems, people should really see your pen in motion.
You are the Michelangelo of flow, you paint pictures with your poems.
You are the countless calm moments after months and years of violence.
It’s fascinating how you effortlessly create poetry out of silence.
People should see your pen in motion, you write your poems differently.
But I wish you took more time to write.

his smile more intriguing than that depicted in the mona lisa.

his hair so golden it puts van gogh's sunflowers to shame.

his eyes pop brighter than lichtenstein's art.

eat your heart out, monet, for my man is far more beautiful than impressionist landscapes.

and why did michelangelo not paint my darling on the sistine chapel?
for he is an angel on earth.

for he is a work of art.