Shards of Dead Porcelain Dolls
Stop looking at me,
Probing old wounds.
I inwardly crumble,
Nothing will come to save me,
You told me of angels and faeries,
The nymphs and the butterflies...
You turn beautiful fantasies into stinging embarrassment,
And ugly lies...
You make me full of faith,
Then rip it away in your ugly fashion.
Look at my hands,
Covered in red,
Images of nothing in the night sky to relinquish my belief,
It cracks my mind,
So I ruined the angels in the graveyard,
Crushed butterflies upon my skin,
I tore pictures out of children's books...
Vampires won't even save me,
They could kill me.
And I am bound by pain to not commit suicide.
I see it in your cold eyes,
You have no heart,
Your soul is barren.
Pegasus still awaits me,
That is what you say...
And I slit your finger,
The one that touches my flesh,
Causing invisible welts to pulsate in black.
Your eyes turn to black hollowness,
Burning through my mind,
As my eyes bleed,
Your mutilating hands seize my arms in bruising grip,
I feel myself begin to cave into myself,
As fissures creep through my skin,
Odd that no blood flows,
And I explode like a ceramic doll,
Eyes staring into yours,
You begin to eat my shards...
And I sit bolt up-right...
And there you are sleeping next to me,
As you do always,
You are my comfort,
Yet every night you kill me in my broken dreams...
I can't solve the puzzle.
Something on the floor catches my eye...
A piece of flesh colored ceramic.
I feel wet warmth against my back,
I touch it...
When I look at my hand,
All I see is red...
Then I am struck with pain...
And you shove me off where I shatter in a bloody mess with all your other affections,
But I was not a china doll,
I was flesh,
And now I am porcelain dust.