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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.

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