Apollo by Michelangelo
like Velcro
they rip your skin apart
scabs of red flesh protrude
the gimmicks of the diety
cupid's hysterical
lovestruck, the pain is sweet
like sulphur on a wound: melancholy, but sweet
the symphony of eternality
of the bittersweet ache
we call love
is heard not by the gods
but the mortals.
