Motto: You see,
she wasn’t made from
his rib
she’d been destined
to share
another one of his vitals.
One day
he ran out of marble.
He had his sculpting tools and all
but not a single block
of royal stone
for carving.
Needless to say,
that day
he was in really desperate need
to cut out a template
of her blazing presence,
and release
that long-burning effigy
inside his head;
So the flat straight chisel
went for his chest
instead.
Also, having no time
for plaster models
no patience
for modelling clay
he had to find something
straightaway
just the right height,
anything that reflected
the perfect shades of white
for the statue
he so much desired
to (be)hold.
Nevertheless,
pulling her out
with his bare hands only,
for the first time,
proved so hard
and much more harmful
than he’d ever imagined
so he strove roughly
against his upper trunk
only to kneel down
in sheer agony
thereafter
which, ironically, served him right
to protect her pure eyes
- now wide open and staring-
from seeing the void
and the tearing damage
she’d left behind.
Not knowing
what he was doing,
Having no clue
about either self-carving
or human chests
he had ripped away
a part of his own pounding heart
thus adding
a pound of his own flesh
to the armless bust.
Once in a while,
whenever the good gods allow it,
he’d take her from her plinth
just to fold his arms around her,
slowly, and then,
in the blink of her teary eyes,
a whole heart, reunited,
would start pounding
inside him,
with the two chests,
now a complete one,
again, in the sweetest embrace.
