Porcelain Heart
I am a porcelain doll
Fearful that I shall fall
High upon my stand
Cold fingers on cold hand
Clenched around my pen
As I write of flowers
And warbling wren
The flowers are poison
The bird an eater of flesh
If I might have just this one wish
To have and to hold you as my own
And you in return, shall loan
Your heart, keeping mine safe
My porcelain heart
Be gentle, it is fragile
With many ragged holes
A thousand scars
My heart is marred
By a thousand uncaring souls
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Porcelain Heart, which
was posted on Oct 22, 2011 by
VictoriaGlass.
This is a solo poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Analogy, Uncategorized
This poem belongs to 10 groups:
Completed Works
Critiques Wanted
Dark Poets Society
Dreams of Literature
Fantasy
Poets of Tomorrow
Sanctuary For The Darklings
Shameless Self Promotion
Supernatural Lovers
Young Writers
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