Fine Bone China*

How is it that once upon my

Teenage dreary I could

Scream and cry and be all teary

About one boy, having said,

"I could never live without him."

I have.

I did.

I am broken because of this

Profession of faith in a boy...

So many - who grew to be

Men - who never grew in love 

With me who I couldn't see

Myself or my way out of love

With their cold indifference and

Blatant disregard for the meal

I served up so elegantly on 

The silver platter of my

Fine bone China heart.

Why must we get broken down

into ash to be added to clay that is then

Thrown onto a wheel and spun 

Round and round just to make

A plate worthy to be used -

Used to selflessly serve or 

a cup to be filled and poured out 

always for someone else who is clumsy and

Invariably drops and shatters us?

These ravenous men were always 

more concerned with

What was being served on the china 

Than the china itself - some would

Beg to differ and some did beg for

The delicacies of femininity that

Should have been hidden in the

China cabinet, safe under lock and key.

It takes earth, wind, fire and water to 

Make fine bone china... it only takes

One careless, aloof, heartless man-child to 

Find the key hidden conspicuously,

Steal into the cabinet and break it all to pieces.