No More Porcelain Dolls

I am a fragile porcelain doll sitting on the top shelf.
I bruise easily. I have the marks to show.
I sit on this top shelf waiting for him to return.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
If I spoke who would hear?
I am not suffered a touch, I am not shown love.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
I have seen other dolls
None of them porcelain.
I have always been above them
Never equal, never below.
I can see the love for the rag doll below me
I hear her cries but I do not feel her pain.
Her pain is not my pain, for me there was no choice.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
He placed me up here and then he left.
I see a strange man with no soul.
What has he done with the little boy who put me up here?
I see him with those dolls;
I see him but he does not see me
The man with no soul hurts so much and yet continues…To hurt so many.
I see the man with no soul
He is coming for me
I am waiting for the little boy who put me up here!
Stop.
I speak for the very first time.
And then I bruise easily because he wants to hold, tightly, onto me.
I feel the tears well up in my eyes
The tears have spilled onto my hard creased face
I feel the wetness on my cheeks I taste the saltiness on my lips.
I close my eyes so as not to see what he has done to me.
But only to think of what he’s done to the others.
I feel the crack spider my entire body.
I open my eyes only to see the broken lines on my brown porcelain.
And now I can clearly see where my heart used to be.
I want the tears to drip searing his skin,
but the cracks in my face have swallowed all of them.
In my disarray, I look to my left and I look beneath me.
He is beneath me but he is above the rag doll
I see his eyes for the very first time.
I see the little boy who put me up here.
I waited: I left for no other soul.
Isn’t that the little boy who put me up here?

I see his eyes inside the man with no soul
Are you the little boy that put me up here?
He tearfully replied: You and you alone see him.
His eyes turned down unable to face mine
It is time that I climb off of this shelf.
I must move cautiously while moving away
I am already bruised and battered
My brown porcelain cannot stand another blow
The man with no soul does not notice
But the rag doll does.
I mustn’t run, I must walk strong, it must be steady
So as not to miss the way he is letting me go,
Right underneath her nose.
I waited for the little boy that put me up there
And I cautiously descended that shelf.
He is still beneath me and she is still beneath him.
They are both where they belong.
My journey has begun.