I. She was a wide-eyed wonder with
a virgin neck of porcelain.
Her body did not know what it was like
to be dropped on the concrete.
II. You’d put her in your pocket
while you walked, wrapped
in bubble wrap and styrofoam, and
only exposed her
when you needed the time.
But you’d always wrap her up again;
you could never be too careful.
III. All this
wrapping and unwrapping has become
tedious, and your
fingerprints are fogging up her eyes
anyway, so maybe there’s
no point.
IV. You walk with her in your palm; swinging
your arms to
the rhythm of her breath.
She’s covered
in stickers and flower
thorns.
V. She slips from your fingers and
hits the ground.
Shards of her veins
explode on the pavement.
Her eyes glaze over–sticky
with your fingerprints.
Her neck is covered in
blossoming violets and roses
you willed to bloom with
your breath.
Her hands are
cold and cracked.
VI. She is too far
beyond repair,
and all you know how to do
is destroy.
VII.You step on her and
walk away.
Silenticel 