Michelangelo

She is a deciduous tree
Shedding her skin like leaves
And she believes
In the process
Even when it causes her distress
Hands like Michelangelo
Chipping off pieces of limestone
And watching them shatter at her feet
Hoping that someday her masterpiece
Will feel complete
She's spent years perfecting
Each seemingly jagged edge
Waiting to put her work on display
Until she felt okay
With the results
Seeking consult
From third party objectives
Trying to round out her perspective
And I am just an onlooker
I've traveled hundreds of miles just to look at her
To stand at her feet in silent wonderment
I am but a servant
To a work of art
with sweeping admiration in my eyes
And looking at you I could cry
I could let myself go
And I know
You are struggling through a perfectionist's curse
And when it hurts
To feel you haven't reached that finish line quite yet
When your struggle for self feels infinite
Know that my affection is too
And my strong and gentle hands will reach out to you
And long to lift you up so you can see
That when you feel incomplete
You are still a work of art to me.

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