We had built our own monuments,
We had once loved each other and our ways,
But now, the simplest buildings have fallen,
And I still dream of bygone days.

I had so loved you for your skills,
The way your fingers slipped over the keys,
Like an artist, dreaming the perfect lover:
You, Pygmalion, sculpting great lines that weaved.

In this we based our affection:
Or I did, anyway, so rashly;
I thought I heard myself in your music,
And advanced our affair so brashly.

As years went on, I only found it hollow.
I studied so closely for myself again,
But I don’t think I was ever there:
You, Pygmalion, sculpted me into oblivion.

I had never been your Galatea,
Though you had one all along.
Your fingers, pouring gold onto the keys,
Wanted only them, and only their song.

-

Inspired by "River Flows in You," by Yiruma. I tried to give it a loose meter while still having rhyme, to fit with the piece's corresponding free, yet structured, sound. Written 10 Feb 2009 as part of Thing-a-Day 2009.