Manikin

Rough.. Feelings after a fight.

I am the manikin,

Still and lifeless inside the window pane

With only artificial paint to lend

Color to my colorless face.

Stiff and cold,

Held apart from everyone else

By my cold plastic stare;

(...I only look where you tell me to...)

I suppose if anyone dared to

Try to hold my hand,

All you would find is perfect imperfection

There is

no breath to

Time the rise and fall of my empty chest,

No heartbeat

For you to hear

But if I could speak just once

Your name would be just enough

To make me come alive;

If only you would

Make a plastic heart to go inside these plastic ribs,

But I am just your manikin.

Author's Note

This is very rough, being the first piece I have written in over six months.