Poem -
The Doll
In my chair
I stare
dressed in
my clothes forÂ
the day
hair just right
perfect lips
sit and waitÂ
watch the clockÂ
what will he eat
skies go by
key to the door
his whore
a ritualÂ
water soap
to the bed
he carries me
positions me
treats this doll
like a human queen
stare to the ceilingÂ
no heartbeatÂ
he is happyÂ
enters me
no touch his body
off limitsÂ
one last time
rapid successionÂ
seed of discretionÂ
pooled aroundÂ
plastic soulless me
ritual clean me
night clothes
the chair
he sleepsÂ
my eyes neverÂ
closeÂ
I see
everything
but can'tÂ
cry....
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Comments
Incredibly well.written. The mood the tone and the end. Well done
I echo, Lost, Sophia, this poem brings to mind a book by Margaret Atwood call The edible woman, book is about a woman about to be married who fears that her 'humanity' is being eaten away like cake, I see this similarity in your poem....enjoyed this poetÂ
I am familiar with her work I am now vested in the series the handmaids Tale my young lady is not a lady at all I gave thought to a man who had purchased a silicone beauty how an inanimate object can she feel and how this man controlled everything funky I know short story material I just wanted to see how it was received almost paralyzed she does everything without complaints quite sad really.
â»â»â»â»â» stirring da  prude pot//// LMAO
Wow word travels fastÂ