China Doll Heart
Why don’t you put me up on that line?
Like a worn, wet shirt that needs the sun.
Do I not feel bisque against your skin?
Do these buttons pull the hair that I used to stroke?
I do not carry a China Doll’s heart and,
My lips are not painted in vermilion.
But in the softest color of amaranth.
There are no reproductions of me,
Only depictions of the blonde curls upon my head,
Voiceless, blue-eyed bodies placed only upon pegs.
They won’t carry you, like I,
Because they are frozen Charlotte’s.
Unmarked and numbered.
Go on then, put me up on that line,
Let the sun carry me away,
And fade your desires, your wants.
For I do not carry a China Doll heart.