Venus Poem by Robert L. Bixler III

If it came down to it,
Could your love save me?
Would your life cease,
When my heart slept to you?

With a pigeon-toed approach,
I stand with hung head.
With a slight babbled-tourret’s speak
I render weakened, insecure words.

At first, you take me whimsically
And brush off my compliments,
Before realizing my true indignity:
I’d die for your love.

Temporal excuses and hurried lies
Flow in a slow trickling faucet fold.
Your methods slow the pain
Till the blade slides through skin.

Having tore my walls down,
The sorrow and bleakness rains.
I feel as Venus de Milo,
Weathered, cracked, without care.

Waiting for your love,
I’ve lost parts of myself.
My body cripples and breaks
As my breath ceases without you.

Torn, beaten and bruised,
I collapse in your presence.
Now as my blood runs cold,
Can you bring life back to your Venus?