If her body is marble what is her heart? A sparkling perfect surface, inside, raw stone. On her face, the smile of a cold blood in the midday sun.

Though you snap off daisy heads and shatter grass blades to the ground, she doesn’t feel your approach. And with dignity, she bears a dazzling halo, by your view imposed.

Why do her heels bleed if her body is marble? Smooth stone is rough-weather skin. And soft curves, until you soothe, or strike. Spitting heels, and she stays stuck.

She. The object reflecting your desires. There it stands between the roses, in her untouched garden, her voiceless battlefield rooted in a classic myth. 

Do you follow the hiss and her bleeding trail? Definition blurred by boldness. With your sword behind your back, prepared for a gutless attack, humming a song of honor.

When your blade splits against her chest equal halves of broken iron join lost fortune coins. Disappear searching for her heart in the basin, the void. 

If she is hollow, would you make her a heart? Carefully carve out her curves, so much less than she deserves. You against the marble and a thousand coiling bodies.

Metal screeching scratches, breathing marble dust. Until you hold it in your hands – her heart. Her body sparkling at the bottom of the fountain.