The Porcelain Doll

A porcelain doll is being sold on a shelf,

With deep, brown eyes and blonde curls that frame her face,

Waiting for the day where someone would be her new playmate,

Someone to understand how beautiful and fragile she was,

But would learn to treasure her despite all her flaws.

You were mesmerized by those rosy cheeks,

Face of innocence,

Never played,

Untouched.

And dragged that porcelain doll from the shelf,

And named it as your own,

Taking her to places never seen before.

You caressed her in your arms,

Showed it all your love,

Told her all your secrets,

Doted on her from head to foot.

You soiled that pure, white skin with your sweaty fingertips,

As you dressed and undressed her over and over again.

But then you grew tired of that same painted face,

Disgusted of the reflection of your own fingertips on her skin,

Finding it hard to see the elegance in the limp pile of rags,

But in her youthful, brown eyes, you were still the same.

The porcelain doll was dropped,

And shattered into pieces on the floor.

Those same youthful, brown eyes watched,

As  you laughed and walked away,

With a new doll caressed in your arms,

Unable to leave since her legs were broken too.

The porcelain doll's pieces were left on the floor,

Forgotten and finding solitude among the dust,

At least never again will anyone disrupt its slumber,

And touch these rusty, daggers of glass.

But, a new playmate comes along and stumbles across these shards,

Curious to see the porcelain doll in its former glory,

And decides to put each piece back together one by one.

However, the porcelain is now sharp,

The shards too dangerous.

The new playmate cuts himself with every touch,

His blood oozing down his fingertips,

His skin as cracked as the porcelain's.

Even with such loving hands,

Each piece is resistant and would rather stick to you,

Versus being glued into the monster that it has become.

But even so, he continues to work, 

And the doll starts to feel alive again,

With a hand to hold,

A face to caress,

A body to love.

But her heart was too broken to be repaired again,

And continued to crumble with the slightest touch,

And despite a spirit as gentle as his,

The porcelain doll could not love again.

The porcelain doll tried and tried to make this ice cold shell feel his warmth,

But it was all in vain.

The porcelain doll saw with her faded, brown eyes,

That boyish smile slowly turn into a frown,

As he placed the porcelain doll back into the dust,

And walked away.

Because despite all his efforts,

That rosy-cheeked face of innocence,

Will always have the scars of my past playmate. 

Reviews

[cycy]

WOW...i honestly cant find the words to describe this wonderful poem. its a perfect description of exactly how i felt a few years back. After my first heartbreak, i can relate to every single line and stanza, i know exactly what you mean its as if you wrote this about that phase. its always so hard to let a new person in because once you feel so broken and ruined you just wanna hold on to the memories of what you once had and who you were and simply dont wanna take chances with getting hurt again. im sure most girls can actually relate to this hey. i love how you told the story in the poem. your words are well picked and just flow...beautiful. i loved it.

[Crystal Heart]

Aww thank you

[Crystal Heart]

I feel like this is definitely one of those experiences most people can relate to, which shouldn't be the case. And it lingers and effects you for the rest of your life, despite all effort.