Porcelain Girls

We live in a world

that breeds dolls made of porcelain

and then throws them on the sidewalk

until they’re shattered beyond recognition

just to romanticize the shapes

created by the broken pieces.

--

We live in a world

that glamorizes cruelty

whispered in hallways,

bruised knuckles

and teeth as broken as our hearts.

---

We live in a world

that idealizes emaciation,

thighs the same circumference as my arm,

ribs and vertebrae counted like sins,

skin stretched too tight over sharp edges.

--

We live in a world

that glorifies the beauty

of dark crimson on broken skin,

the wonderful contrast

making flesh look pale blue.

--

We live in a world

that fantasizes relationships full of passion,

even if that passion is anger and rage

and leaves bruises on your chest,

and fear is tattooed on the inside of your eyelids.

--

Instead,

why don’t we romanticize

shy smiles

and touches as light

as a butterfly’s kiss?

--

Why don’t we glamorize kindness

and soft skin

and the joy of that first taste

of homemade pasta

touching your tongue?

--

Let’s idealize the breeze

in the summer

sliding over your sweat dampened skin.

--

Laughing with friends

over nothing at all

under blanket forts

that feel bigger than castles.

--

A soft kiss on your forehead

from a boy who is loving

and wonderful

and comfortable,

and it’s for those reasons

that you feel passion tingle in your fingertips.

--

Do not break yourself

because this world demands it.

--

Build yourself,

heal yourself,

love yourself.

That is what makes you beautiful.