Pygmalion

This ivory in my bed
stares straight ahead
when I kiss her.

To come alive,
to move or kiss me back,
I try to con­vince her
with my lips.

Maybe Aphrodite will see
me with my fair lady,
and take pity.

But this stone does­n’t
smooth with wear,
it crum­bles and falls away.

2 comments

  1. Since the top­ic seems to be bad poet­ry.

    Clenching my pen­cil,
    There’s only a tangy mem­o­ry of how …
    “I used to kiss her on the two lips;
    but it’s all over now.”

    ;-)

    • The way one first reads the dou­ble enten­dre must be some kind of Freudian insight into the state of mind of the read­er. I was def­i­nite­ly look­ing at it as an “end­ing”, and it was only lat­er that I real­ized the sec­ond mean­ing.

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