Our love was like,
A porc'lain doll.
Just sat on a shelf...
Hoping that something,
Would become of it.
I'd clear the dust,
And mend the chips,
On a once flawless...
Most beautiful piece.
waiting to become...
Oh, something else!
Not a figure,
Not appreciate,
But to become real!
Something that's noticed,
Something that mattered.
Years wear it down
Tatter the lace.
We touch it too much...
It begins to fade,
Loses it's shimmer.
It broke my heart,
To see it wait.
So I picked it up,
Smashed it on the floor.
Did it a favor.
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