porcelain arms.

August 2, 2013 § Leave a comment

That nerveless doll
with arms of the purest porcelain
that shatter and break in the winter chill
speaks words smoother than the glass in her eyes
a fine blue in tone, to strike against
the balmy blush of her cheeks
breathes
and grasps with unblemished hands
at the shattering unknowable.

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