Perspective of a stuffed toy

I have no heart,
yet I have held every beat of yours.

I was stitched from quiet thread and filled with soft, old wool, given a face that could not see -
yet somehow,
I witnesses everything.

The tears you buried in my worn-out ear.
The secrets you whispered only after the house had fallen asleep.
The nights you held me tighter when thunder made the world feel too big.

To you,
I was only a toy at the edge of your bed.
But to me,
you were the world I was made to protect.

I never minded then worn seams, the missing glass eye, the cotton slowly escaping through my wounds.
Every scar you left on me was proof that once,
you needed me.

And then,
one day,
you stopped reaching for me.
Now I sit on a higher shelf,
covered in dust,
watching you trade night-lights for the darkness of growing up.

You don't know this,
but I still remember the child who used to find me whenever the world hurt.
And though my seams are tired and my stuffing has grown thin,
my purpose has not changed.
I am still keeping watch over the little you
you left behind.

So if you ever come looking for home again,
I'll still be here-
a little warm,
a little broken,
and exactly where you left me.
Waiting to hold you
like you never grew up.