Bone China

Other girls with painted faces,
calling cards for testosterone.
Boys and men handle their bone
china dolls, beautiful and coveted.
Displayed in glass cases, these toys–
trophies lusted after and won.

I turned my face to darkest porcelain:
fragile, pure, and treasured.
I wanted my own china cabinet,
exhibited as an exotic prize
shipped from the shore opposite
of eagles crowned in gold.

Other girls are packed and sold;
foam protects their frail facades.
Ceramic airheads hollowed out,
they think themselves precious.

I fell out of the box, head dashed
open. Apple blossom cheeks crack
with a soft ping and release a
golden eagle.

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