I wanted to use this image as a writing prompt, but everything I wrote was cheap plastic bin bag quality. I put the words in, but they keep breaking and falling out. So these are my rambling thoughts behind what I saw when I took this photo. Feel free to make your own.
I wanted marble skin when I was a kid. Not these freckles I was given. Now I tell myself I’m just a negative of night sky; they’re my stars. That’s if I actually think about it. Mainly I forget because I live in a world of marble, that’s what I see and I’m always surprised when someone mentions them.
I love statues, the ones that look they’re still breathing. How can you not love the talent and skill that goes into them? This is just a tiny detail of a man and woman clinging to each other. I always look at the whole, but focus on the small detail, that’s where you see skill. The way a piece flows, even with imperfections; the veins and blemishes. They don’t detract from softness created from stone. It invites you to run your fingers over its curves, feel it’s coolness. It’s what reminded me of skin. Inviting you to touch, to feel, to see curves and lines with your fingers. To find it’s pulse. That’s what I wanted to put into a poem. I think I need to trail my fingers over some more words and look for it’s heartbeat.