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Porcelain Creature You liked me polished. Silver-tongued. A quiet hymn Half-sung. Hands folded Like I was prayer. Soft-spoken air. You dressed my silence In silk and praise. Taught me the shape Of a safer gaze. A velvet collar. A gentle chain. You called it love. I called it restraint. I was your porcelain creature. Glossed in light. Taught to fracture Out of sight. But I am not Your sculpted joy. Not your beautiful Broken boy. I learned to move Like smoke in glass. Let your fingers Mark the past. I made myself An easy sin. Soft at the edge. Hollow within. You liked me pliant. You liked me sweet. Kneeling metaphor At your feet. Every whisper Wore your name. Every touch Was dressed as tame. I was your porcelain creature. Curved to fit The lines you drew. The parts you split. But there’s a fire Under the skin. A darker hunger Breathing in. You never loved The whole of me. Just the parts That wouldn’t leave. You held the leash Like it was art. Never touched The animal heart. Breaking. Rising. I am not silk. I am not lace. I am the bruise Beneath the grace. Heavier. And Sensual. No more porcelain. No more poise. No more careful, Quiet noise. I am heat. I am void. I am not Your good boy. You can’t soften What I’ve become. You can’t polish What I am. All rights reserved.