Metallics.
Be still my heart.
My flesh can be, should be, will be,
No more.
For flesh can feel, can touch, can burn.
Replace me, translate me, make me anew.
A new head.
From copper, that shines though I’m sad.
A brain of wire that does not dream dreams of you.
Eyes of glass that do not see you when you’re not there.
A nose of brass that cannot smell the scents that remind me of you.
And me.
And us.
A new body.
Of chrome, that cannot tarnish from tears and tiredness.
A spine of iron, that will not bend to you.
Nerves of steel, that will not shatter.
Skin of titanium, so thick it cannot be pierced.
Or scarred.
Or feel.
A new heart.
Of stone, for gold has proven useless.
One that cannot bend when pressed.
One that cannot break when hurt.
One that cannot melt in the flames of passion.
Or wither in the embers of hate.
Or glow with love.
Make me anew.
As a machine.
Ever working, ever moving,
Never feeling, never moved.
And let me throw that switch
Which will
Still my heart.
For you. For me.
Poet? I don’t know it.
WillQ.
