literature

wooden hearts.

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dead-neon-light's avatar
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Literature Text

he told me that i was the most beautiful
of all the mannequins in the department store;
he said that he wouldn't mind being stuck
in this hellhole forever, as long as he stood next to me.

and i loved him because
he warmed my immobile heart,
and i loved him for how
he'd never leave my side
if i told him not to.

each day, we'd stand together
under the heated display lights
i didn't care that there were others
more beautiful than me

i didn't care when closing time was arriving,
all that mattered was that he only had eyes for me
and only me

we were seperated
by leagues and leagues of aisles
all day,
but upon closing,
he would depart from formal attire
and drag himself all the way to casual wear,
the place i called home.

and i'd hold onto his cold hands
splintered from years of wear-and-tear,
and be glad i could at least
lay claim to one thing in this store.

he'd embrace me in his stiff arms
and whisper to me sweet nothings,
tell me how beautiful i was,
talk about how we'd be together
forever

but forever, was not to be
when dawn broke
and i awoke glassy eyed
and unsure

and he was gone.
if my sculpted nose
could smell
or if my carved ears
could hear

i would smell the smoke
of his cedar body
burning
and hear the crackling of his skin
melting

and suddenly,
i was more alone
than the janitor who dusted me
by himself at night

winter,
and i see a little girl in tears outside
and it makes me want to cry too
but everybody knows you can't cry when
you're made of painted plastic

days past and i grow tired of
wishing, hoping
for nothing to come by
my heart is quickly forgetting him

spring,
i turn to focus my gaze
on handsome young things
and suddenly,
a bold swagger along hot asphalt
bright eyed and curly haired

he stops to admire
my place in the display,
admiring my summer dress,
my painted skin

i am putty under his gaze.

maybe he was only
imagining his girlfriend in my stead,
or daydreaming, perhaps

but all that matters
is that he's looking at me now.

but he quickly moves on.

what use is a mannequin to him.

grey days and forlorn nights
i feel despondent

today,
men in blue jumpers come
they don't hold me gently,
the way he did

somehow i am able to close my eyes
i don't feel myself hit and crash against
the wet wooden floor of the truck

i am able to screen out
all the bumps and pain
the splinters;

i can ignore
how i am trapped in the corner
behind tools and other garbage
as i feel the wheels slow

now i know i am trash
just waste
as the truck rolls to a stop--

now i miss him

all the more

as i know i am at my end.
a collaboration between ~7ucille and myself.

this girl does NOT get enough attention
please go read her poems
especially
[link]
and
[link]


anyway this is pretty long, i hope we don't disappoint
© 2009 - 2024 dead-neon-light
Comments13
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EternalFreedom's avatar
not disappointed at all.
:heart: