fine china bought with hopes
hopes of dinner parties and memories
packaged up tight
held together, bound in plastic
don’t let the dust in, don’t let a scratch show any wear
hidden away, told to forget
told it’s not for everyday
told it’s not for today
eventually not for anyday
sitting on a shelf along with her regrets
tarnished items she packed away while building a home but forgetting herself
she hides all the pieces of her scattered self like the china in bags up high, hard to reach
no one asks about the china they all have their own plates at home
does anyone really like dinner parties anyhow?
fuck it
climb high, unzip, drop
piece by piece they fall from the shelf
watching from the ladder as if her hands are not her own
each piece explodes like a snowball on the floor
again and again until she is left with just a cup
descending the ladder, cup in hand stepping on the shards
feeling them crunch and crack from the weight
leave the mess
take the cup
fill your cup
a girl in the trees 