Your face is made of stone today.
Beautiful, cold, expressionless.
A countenance of marble
That lets me admire you,
But not understand.
I need to shrink in size,
Grab a pick and headlamp
And dig through that hard,
Ambivalent skin.
Tunnel to your brain,
Excavate the pertinent nerve endings,
And dust off and study
Your thoughts.
Because I cant tell,
Behind that statue of a gaze,
If you still love me.
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