Sculpting Me Caught in a whirlwind, A tornado of ideas and themes, All is spinning around me, And a-slipping are my dreams. Impetuous, you steal my soul, Hold it, fragile in your hand, You pluck from it my dreams, Then the pieces, you disband. Your intentions are good, Your hopes utterly profound, You think you're helping, But I'm lost beyond the ground. Wanting only the best, Your fantasies you dream, The rush of your tornado, It drowns out all my screams. My love, you have the power, I'm bent, alone at your feet, Sculpted, broken by your caress, Your breathlessness so sweet. Struggling to remember who I am, Your hand, I've let guide mine, My other, reaches back to Fleetingly touch my dreams divine. Within all this, do I exist? Or am I just a slave? A servant to your pretty whims? A martyr oh-so-brave? I let my hand slip, From your grasp so cool, I step back to see it all, To assess if I've been a fool. Established in my world, Are things I want to keep, And I've finally learned in life, To look before I leap. The things we both want, Are momentous worlds apart, I need to stay true to me, Despite ensuing break of heart. I know it's going to hurt us both, But you'll have to let me go, My love, I wish it could be different, But I can't go with your flow. I need to make my own way, Not prepared to sacrifice, What it is that I have built, And the joy of its delights. I cannot leave what I value most, I cannot walk away, For a simple chance at romance, An opportunity to play. It's torture to imagine, Not having you, my sweet, My heart deflates at the thought Of losing such a treat. Your heart, it feels so warm, And it hurts to say "So long," But if I've learned anything, It's to stay where I belong. image credit: original found at http://www.artschool.org.uk/sculpture.htm and modified for this entry).