The Doll

Sitting on the shelf I watch closely.
On my best behaviour to draw you in.
My porcelain gleams and my clothes are neat.
Every frayed thread tucked away.

I’m a doll made to be wanted.
Fresh paint. Bright eyes. A perfect smile.
I know we’ve just met, but let me dance.
Pull my string and I’ll come alive.

You bring me home and show me off.
You hold me high for everyone to see.
My ribbon is worn from all the adventures.
Dirt embedded in my shirt.
I was made for you—side by side forever.

I followed you everywhere, my hand in yours.
Now when dawn breaks you are no longer here.
Left in the bed—silence surrounds me.

Most mornings I fall to the floor.
My body cracks.
I feel the dust settle into my core.
Glue me—hold me in place.
Just don’t look too closely.
Some pieces never came back.

You place me atop your wardrobe.
I can see you but you rarely look at me.
I fall off when you shut the door.
Your hands on me. Carefully judging.
You’ve seen too much. My paint is thinning.

Back on the shelf where you first saw me.
After every layer of paint.
After every costume I wore.
After every dance I learned.
I never loved you. I hope you rot.

No… I will wipe away this dust.
And stitch myself together.
Touch up my colour; I’ll show you I still shine.

Sitting on the shelf I watch closely.
On my best behaviour to draw you in.
I’m a doll made to be wanted.
Fresh paint. Bright eyes. A perfect smile.
I know we’ve just met, but watch me dance.
I’m sure you will like it.
Everyone does.