you look at me

and I am carved out of marble

I am the Sistine chapel

You trace patterns into my skin,

connect the freckles on my thigh into a constellation

you study me like the stars

I hadn't accounted for the possibility

That I could be loved like that.

and when you have left

and the altar we built together crumbles,

I will always know

that you loved me enough,

to turn me into art