And I am not a pedestal.

    We are not a handful of harmless

    scratches on pale pink canvas.

    Today is not the day to stop

    looking for the woman

    to save you. What was once

    ivory is wood. What was once

    whalebone is cotton.

    My coif and corset are duly

    fastened， and your shirttail is

    tied in a diamond knot.

    You may be the giver

    of unappreciated nicknames

    and the devoted¹ artist

    who has given my still life

    life. But we can never reach

    each other's standards.

    You want to condemn² me

    to eternity³. I want to make you

    no more perfect than you

    used to be. We are not

    together， we are not alone.