Cracked face
Porcelain’s purity
Left to gather memories
Displayed but forgotten
Once she mattered
Once
It was so long ago that she can’t remember
But the hurt lingers
Tugging as her marionette heart strings
Would she have the ability to cry
Let the dust turn to mud
Disappear in the dark
But instead she waits
For the day
When the dust is wiped away
So that she can rise without her strings
Those bits that are missing
Are not missed
Her cracks are life
Not losses
Until then
She will sit and watch
As the dust dances in the sunlight
[bctt tweet=”‘Would she have the ability to cry Let the dust turn to mud Disappear in the dark’ @tina_mcfarlane #poem #darkness #horror” username=”theboldmom”]
