Dollhouse

Objectification

Svelte—her fingers
poke and prod
my fleshy hourglass.

Pour the sand,
swirling—
your hungry mouth
laps it up.

Hair—black pearl
coiled on her shoulder,
a ladder
for you to climb.

Measure us.
Weigh us.
Paint our faces.

All mine,
you say.

Throat choked.

Discarded.
Degenerate.
Doppelganger.

Two dolls
in your little mansion.

Off she goes—
into the toy bin,
rubbish piling.

But look—
please do.

Look at her beauty,
aristocratic,
refined.

Look well.

It glitters.

It's purebred.

A perfect twin
set beside the first.

Look again.

A porcelain crack
you wish to kiss.

Look again
at your golden flaw.

That—
murders you.