porcelain
All alone All along
like porcelain shavings
her skin began to crack
like a feather floating on thin air
she's losing strands of silken hair
the mirror spits back
all the qualities in which we lack
like needles in our eyes
poisoned with vain lies
she savored the quiet moments
devoid of conversation
the sound of still breathing
the footsteps that followed him leaving.
the closer I feel
the further you fade
the more I crave
the less you feed
so I chose not to need
a single thing..
will there ever be a solid bridge built to cross..?
a river below, to toss our fears away...
voices muffled, as she sank deeper
yet no hand reaches.
sunshine streaks through the surface
the only warmth you'll get
engulfed in cold fluids
& a heart weighed down by loves disillusions---
many reminders of what could have been..
all alone
she knew it all along..
What I am.
Porcelain.
Porcelain hands, legs, chest, face, and heart.
That is what I am.
Fragile, underestimated, overlooked.
Admired, but not loved.
Envied, and untouched.
Painted lips, dead eyes, no emotion, no voice.
That is not what I am.
Weak, empty, forgotten.
Looked at, yet seen right through.
Touched, without being felt.
I don't know what I am.
I am unseen, and unimportant.
Yet I am gazed upon, and held dear.
What am I?
A Doll?
A Trophy?
A Girl?
A Soul?
A Someone?
A Nothing?
Who knows.
Perhaps, I simply am, what I am.