From the musty antique shelf,
Shining its fake Hollywood smile,
It longed for the glamorous kiss of the spot light.
It ached to be touched -
Just a caress along the face -
Desperate to be held.

I stepped closer towards it,
And in a ****** of light,
Bright milky tears emerged,
Trickling across its hollow cheeks.
The shadow cast behind its body,
Mirrored dark thoughts that swirled within.

The porcelain shell was burdened,
With hundreds of shattered memories
Washed with rich tea scents,
That bore sharply into its core.
It longed for its companion,
That fit so perfectly in its heart.

But it failed to sell me its heart-felt story.
My attention drifted.
Its heart sank.
A fate left to a coating in dust.