I Am a Porcelain Doll

I am a porcelain doll. Fair of face, coveted by a young girl. My smile is welcoming, cheeks are rosey, My dress wrinkle and tear free Each button in place. I am a porcelain doll. Cracks feathered lightly across my pained face. I’m the one they come to when worried, stressed Clutching at me too tightly I’m feeling my age. I am a porcelain doll. Older now, but still adored by my girl Who needs me much more as she fights cancer. She sets me down way too hard And runs to vomit. I am a porcelain doll. My face sloppily glued back together That painted-on smile at last wiped away. Who would smile at her torture? My dress has a stain. I am a porcelain doll Everything I once thought vital has changed. I hate my hair — because she is now bald. Glad my presence gives her hope. Wish my arms could hug. I am a sad, broken doll. I hate my gingham frock — I should wear black. I am dirty, cleaned only by her tears And now of those who miss her. The lid closes. We rest. January 6, 2019 Free Verse Only Poetry Contest Emile Pinet