New Doll

Knees together

Eyes open

Her head-tilted

Not moving

 

She’s his new one

His favorite.

I hate her.

She’s taken him.

 

Both hands

On couch

Feet in heels

apart

 

I want his attention

I can’t move.

He’s brushing her hair.

Its my fault.

 

Yellow skirt flowers

White top

Puffed sleeves

Knee-high socks

 

I’m used, dirty.

That doll is his favorite.

He’ll do it to her, too.

She’s lucky.

 

Perfectly straight

Blonde hair

Wide eyes

Pouty lips

 

She’s perfect.

I’m not.

I’m broken, she’s whole.

I want him to love me again.

 

She’s scared.

I’m trash.

 

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About blackwinterrosethorn

I am an artist and a writer whose living in Virginia. I go to Hollins University and I am a double minor in Creative Writing and Music. I've been writing for about eleven or twelve years. I've been singing forever and I have been drawing and painting for four or five years. I am open to doing commissions and collaborative pieces. View all posts by blackwinterrosethorn

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