Coal and the Polished Stone

You are a polished stone.
A perfect gem
of rose
and gold.
With these little blue sparkles
that no one
can't
not
see.

And I...
...I'm coal.
Of char
and oil.
My form
of function
which won't
inspire
desire.

When someplace
put us
side by side.
You gleamed your gleam
I did not hide.
I tried to gleam
but failed
because I'm coal.

It was divine
you at my side.
And to myself
I deeply lied.
A piece of coal
with delusions of
a life
with a
gem.

For who would want
what makes you black
and smudged
and rough
and chipped
and cracked?
A polished stone
needs not
a lump
of coal.

And when we touched
it was enough
for me
to see
how wrong
it was.
I'll never be
a hunk
of chiseled
stone.

I’ll always be
that which you’re not,
a dirty rock
that when gets hot,
he lights,
ignites,
combusts,
and burns
aflame.

SHARE THIS