Babushka Dolls
There is more to her than meets the eyes

Babushka Dolls
She sits on the sill when the moon hangs low
not bought, not gifted, just there one day
five painted faces, none with eyes
each one smaller, each one sly
I dreamed of oceans once, bright and wild
they cracked her open, and I woke in mud
no sand, no sun, just teeth in the sky
and laughter, soft, behind my blood
Next night came a forest, lit with fireflies
they peeled her back and turned it to ash
I choked on bark and roots that sang
your name in groans like something evil
Each dream a gift, a soft escape
and every time I closed my eyes
she swallowed them
then spat them out,
and whispered truths in voices dry
The smallest doll is shaped like me
her smile is wrong, too wide, too thin
I tried to burn her, she did not burn
I tried to run, she let me in
Now I sleep with one eye open
I sleep in pieces, split and torn
she hums a lullaby in silence
and births a nightmare every dawn

About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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