Porcelain Heart

Porcelain Heart

We start off whole,

Like a fine China set, placed away for special occasions,

Delicate, prized and innocent,

admired, but never truly loved.

We find comfort in ourselves,

Confidence built from being on our own,

Because we’ve never felt that everyday love from someone,

Enticed by the day we will be seen and understood for our delicate details.

We are refrained from the harshness of the world,

Our porcelain hearts protected from being dented and cracked,

Our skin remains gossamer, a rarity in its purest form.

The day we become celebrated, the rarity ends,

Enchanted by being a part of someone's special moments,

Being able to be a part of someone’s purpose,

That luxury of feeling as if your shown off,

All come with a price.

It comes with being mishandled by someone you love,

Appreciating the special moments, but coming back a little less bright,

Chips in our surface, scratches in our details,

Flawed by being used though once desired.

Then there comes a time where you have one to many cracks,

Your once desired details, are now defective,

Once cherished purity, now given up to charity,

The condensing of your innate confidence, just to fit for the use of someone else.

We’re the very same porcelain hearts we were before,

Just not as whole,

Shaped by love, Cracked by ware,

Considered damaged to them,

But still prized by others.