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..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

5.7.15

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.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

thoughts/comments appreciated.

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