Shelfie

Day 22
Poem 21

I was very stuck. This is not my best. About doll collecting

Shelfie

It’s obssession, regression, a cry
for more more more, a creeping
fear that there will never be enough,
that I will never be enough. Have I
sealed my fate like all these painted lips,
pursed, unsmiling? I don’t mind
their unblinking eyes. I know
someday I’ll pile them in a box
and send them on their way but for now
each in her place, each
with her story.

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