You Stare


You stare.
I’m not expected goods,
And take no requests,
No special orders, different colors.

Look without touching;
I’ll not be broken by
careless hands.
The others are a dime a dozen,
But they too will age
And gain value.

Surface marred by a thousand
Individuality etched by every
Silver glinting where paint has

Choose the pliant if you wish–
Supple, unforged, mold them
to your fancy.
None though has the grace,
Not one the beauty
Imparted from a life lived fully.

Take and forge if you must
Your own image,
But know your loss.
For only I will stand
In your embrace.

And you more fully would know
The joy of true companionship,
No more alone with self made self.


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