Porcelain
With every chance I take to talk,
My emotions become mixed.
You said we need to talk
And I don’t know what to say,
Though sharp words bottled up
Are awaiting their escape.
But I can’t bring myself
To cut you with these razors,
My porcelain doll,
For fear of the scars
I might create with these hands,
With my lips and my tongue.
So I bite them all in vain, but
Cracked porcelain is just as sharp,
And callouses still are flesh
So I bleed, crimson like my love,
Then black as the darkness,
As the candle you once snuffed
With the softness of your lips,
And the silk of your breath.