The Shelf

There's a blue rag doll on the shelf near the door
Her hair is matted and her one button eye hangs loosely
She is unhappy, and lonely
I avoid her gaze when I walk by,
though she travels my spine nonetheless
There's a rope on the shelf, too
a Hangman's necklace for hidden, unspoken fears
There are ribboned notebooks, velvet boxes,
jars of warm whispers and bundles of feathers
It is not all dark corners and sad nuances
There are joyful things,
things full of life, things worth living for
They are all on the shelf
because no matter how different,
each is much too big
to hold in my arms every day