pieces of me: poems

piece nine

I am a Barbie doll.

The one that little girls

display on their bedroom shelves

and spend their nights

wishing to one day grow up to be like.

I sit still and perfect,

layers of dust caking my fragile skin

from years of only looks,

no touches.

I am a Barbie doll.

The one that every girl expects me to be,

with stereotypical blonde curls

that drape over my tanned shoulders,

covering the acne scars that secretly dot my skin.

My eyes are sky-blue

and so bright that they draw your attention away

from the dark circles that hide under my eyes

after countless, restless nights.

I am a Barbie doll.

The one that's always blending into the crowd,

following the latest trends

so that no girl will ever think

that I am "so last season."

My bright dresses are never wrinkled,

my makeup never smudged.

My high heels are always shiny,

my ruby-red nails never chipped.

I am a Barbie doll.

The one that's life depends on their looks, like

if my handbag matches my shoes,

if my diamond earrings sparkle at the right moments,

if my body has the right number of curves.

If a girl doesn't think I'm pretty enough,

I am not bought off the store shelves.

If someone gets teased for owning me,

I am shoved into the bottom of the toy chest to be forgotten about.

I am a Barbie doll.

The one that's the definition of perfection,

but the one that can easily break.

One false move,

and I will crack and crumble.

One false step,

and I will never see the light of day again–

Never be happy again.

But have I ever been?

2.25.2023