I am porcelain and
clockwork
springs and wheels
whirring
clicking
scuttling
to the tune of your wants.
i am your precious doll
with skin that makes you
-gasp-
in awe before you touch.
Touching is against the rules.
rules that could not
would not
keep angry palms from streaking
across my cheeks
to leave a thousand stinging wasps in their wake.
see me now? cogs spinning in frustration
because you stand there
singing songs about
love
and
life
and
us.
i want to believe. i don't want to be bound by my own inhibitions.
but i sit here on my lonely shelf
trembling; a child who knows that the monsters
under
the bed are stalking her.
confused as a mime told to speak.
i am a mime.
i want to love you. i do love you - with every
conscious thought and gesture
i just can't say it.
porcelain lips won't move.