I am the almost
Tucked away opaque china

Once I was a chandelier
My chiseled features gold

Packed in tissue pristine and precious
Hung up and valuable
Muse to all, talked over

They still stare, but my colors have bled
I cause no wonder, stir no emotion
No longer do they congregate in awe

Brushed off, eyes turned blind
Solitary and silent I wait.