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my tears are old, cracked pottery -
brown bowls that skin your fingertips
and cause you to blink at the sight of them
i look at my potential-filled hands
and can’t distinguish if a particular mark
is from rubbing my running mascara
or pen marks from my careless writing
but either way
they’re mistakes – my mistakes
cabinet eyes open and close
for they contain glass tears
on which our memories are frosted and etched
just like the christmas trees on my dishes at home
so do you feed me these morsels
to prevent from seeing the round platter’s clear edges
that can awaken the dormant guilt
or is there really a feast prepared for me at the end of the trail
i can’t help but to wonder if you see me
through my pursuer’s spectacles
in order to keep me attached to your list
chained by a single spider’s thread
that my heart will never let me cut

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she is the woman i imitated when i was six
and i would let her closet engulf me so i could enclose her world around me.
slip one foot into the red shoe with the bow and tall heel
that made my ankle bend,
and slip the other foot into the navy shoe she wore all the time -
i knew this because it was soft and shaped funny.
next came my favorite part -
the flowing tan nightgown that was worn thin
glided over my miniature body
and i put on a pink belt because today, i was a princess.
the garage sale purse which held my barbie and wads of play money
hung over my shoulder
as i headed to my tiny kitchen set.
plastic dishes clacked as an imaginary feast was being prepared.
dolly’s clothes needed changing before she could be taken
to the grocery store made from cardboard boxes
and a disney song is happily sung out-of-tune -
but that was okay because i was a princess.
my teddy bear husband sat silently in the yellow plastic chair
and i serviced him my creation – pink cake with frosting that sparkled.
why was it that i loved for everything to sparkle when i was young?
i go into the living room with the blaring television
and watch you wash dishes with hands covered in real suds.
with a sad and worried expression, you hum a tune -
and i wonder if you know that you’re a princess, too.