A Statue Carved From Me

...again no water today. My throat aches like craggy rocks and empty air. I would think the wide sand oceans of a desert wasteland would be the place to die of thirst, but I'm cursed; The high top of a mountain tall will be my rest, my bed, my deep slip down from here. Like a coffin stone it will commemorate my life, a peak above all else. I will be named after it, most likely. It has none as of yet.

This height, usually covered in snow and ice, is laid barren, black and hard. But the cold remains, clings to everything like dust. It's been here longer than me, a being I've come to happily embrace as it curls around me with gentle grace. Grace.

I hope she thinks of me, but I know she doesn't, not anymore. On the shore of some ocean we said goodbye like two characters from a soap opera. Our eyes close, noses pressed, and sun heavily fallen into the line of the sea, distant. That's how I remember it now, my head is filled with small stones and silt and I can't seem to sift through it all to find the nuggets. She may have hit me. Best not to know.

I am becoming the rock I lie on, the golem's grip tight around my shoulders. The next great adventurer to arrive here will find my frozen form locked in a mountain thrown. Moss and lichen will cover me, birds will nest in the crook of my arm and I will weather it all. 

Reviews

[Shaquana Adams]

This is so sad. I particularly liked the inclusion of the woman in the story. It makes for a more interesting narrator.

Our eyes close, noses pressed, and sun heavily fallen into the line of the sea, distant. That's how I remember it now, my head is filled with small stones and silt and I can't seem to sift through it all to find the nuggets. She may have hit me. Best not to know.

Truly beautiful imagery :) Great work!

[Benjamin]

Thanks! It is one of my first ventures into prose poetry, a truly terrifying realm.