Statues Quo

Statues possess such a harrowingly stunning façade.
Their danger is wrapped around their beauty:
A still beauty that sometimes reminds me of your masquerade.
Many times, I’ve wondered if people could really fall in love with them;
And I only got my answer when I fell in love with the image of you.
Again, I’d ask myself how it would’ve been possible to feel for marble in museums,
But I look at you and remember I felt for all the stones that make you.
You couldn’t be any more unreachable, any more distant.
You only left me a door half open,
Peeking only when you want to take advantage of me.
You stand on your pedestal, never looking down, never glancing shy of your walls.
And I was left waiting for someone who couldn’t see what I could be.
I was waiting to be someone you could count on, a friend you could rely on,
But you never felt the need to show me vulnerability.
You stopped yourself from exposing more to me.
You built yourself an armor of bronze and gold.
Impenetrable and dazzling, I couldn’t look away;
Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn back again and again.
The more I wanted to get away, the more I was pulled toward pain.
I was cut by your carnelian sharpness,
And I bled in ways I never knew possible against your blade