like a porcelain doll
the old creepy kind with the
open head
stiff wig covering the
hollow, cavernous access
to the soulless shape of a girl
∿₊·∘👱🏻♀️∿₊·∘
instead of living her own
real life
she’s toted around in a basket
∿₊·∘🧺∿₊·∘
cryptic notes detailing days
never chosen, only proximally lived
slipped under loosening curls
∿₊·∘📜∿₊·∘
squashed down inside an
unflinching body until
paper’s fused
all mashed and bulging
her fragile china torso
in danger of exploding
∿₊·∘💥∿₊·∘
pressure sends
chips and chunks
crashing to the ground
in a skin-rending pile
on the bedroom rug
₊‧.°. ⊹ .°.‧₊
now, this cursed wad of memories
must be carefully unraveled
curly letters untangled
each scrap pinned to the fortune board
to be burned when the wind
dies down
∿₊·∘🔥∿₊·∘
every razor-sharp shard cataloged
for an expert hand to reassemble
like a puzzle
with epoxy, repainting
till she’s good as new
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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