My China Doll

My body is broken, bloody, and torn. The elderly doll makers hands shake unsteadily, his soul burdened with dark tasks he has to fulfill. His usual calm indifference has fled with the dieing wind. The coldness in his eyes and heart left those who once cared for him in a frozen wasteland of resentment and broken promises. His warmth once was only for me. He put his heart into my keeping. But my body was his plaything, his favorite pastime, he plucked my strings, and made my spirit dance. Then one day long ago, when he was young, he came to me and there was anger in his eyes but I did not understand for it had never been there before. He cut my ties to him and through me away. Finality in his gaze as he left everything behind. So I ran. I ran the other direction until the beauty of my surroundings took my breath away. I had never been outside his home. I learned what ugliness truly looked like. But I also saw things so amazing that wont be seen by many others. I am overjoyed to have seen such things but before everything was splintered into pieces I only knew the joy of being with him. Curiosity is ever my down fall and I wanted to know why he did this to me. That question stayed in the back of my mind for years, never far from the surface.  Iv seen all there is to see but my yearning is ever for a home that is no longer there. Now I have come back for he is the only one who can fix me. I look at him and see how time has aged his outside and how it hasn’t mine. Everything I have been through has left its mark on my once perfect body except time. Shame courses through me but his eyes only hold fear and concern as my wounds openly bleed onto his carpet. The place looked the same and still different. I felt the urge to cry but I am incapable of drawing tears. All my strength is put into not screaming as his needle tears into me over and over. Then the thread breaks and I am perfect again on the outside. After he looks at me and finally after all this time I feel warm and right again. I forgave him for what he had done. On our insides nothing had changed. We hold each other close as I feel his thread break this time. . .