The Glass Ballerina Dances Her Piercing Ballet

One day her tiny feet scratched your palm as she danced over it while you remained calm. You carried her to your eyes and you cried in laughter. Her tiny tutu was smooth to the touch and her small face was more than enough. One day you let her fall in anger and haste. You dropped to your knees and let her shards pierce your skin as you tried somberly to piece her back together. The sun shone it’s light at that moment and reflected her open, yet broken soul back to you. You asked the divine for deliverance from your committed evil. Shame you forgot that the goddesses are also called justice in a body as reflective and full of light like hers. 
You must know that between you and her I will choose her, always. 

You cannot treat a glass orchid with disregard and you must wipe her dust away, often. 

I will pick her up carefully and shine the light on her material so that I can see her optically active skin. 

She has the type of skin that could magnify your insight, she is cherished by many. 

You should have known that she would prick you if you let her fall and your cut would never heal. 

You want to love her like a prize yet touch her with hands dirty, accused of slights you refuse to acknowledge. 

She knows what you committed because her glass ears heard your voice and her diamond eyes–all-seeing– picked up your alibis covered in pride. 

Her frame is the greatest prize you have touched in a long time; she cannot be exchanged. You will try to commodify her glittery glass veins. 

I have chosen her, again, and again and I refuse to inflict any pain. 

She has chosen you before she has chosen me before, but nevermore. 

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