Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Plastic By, Melissa R. Mendelson


A cold wind blows 
as I stroll along 
the empty path 
through the dollhouse 
and through the plastic 
buildings that surround it. 
The world is behind me, 
and the blank faces 
of the porcelain dolls 
gives me no comfort 
for they can't see 
the woman inside me. 
If I could just melt away 
this prison 
that I have been trapped in 
for too long 
and jump 
back into the water, 
I could swim again 
in the river of life 
and feel 
maybe the love 
of one 
I wish for. 
In the meantime, 
my time is spent 
here in the dollhouse 
and the plastic buildings, 
listening to the voices 
of those empty dolls 
living a life 
that I dream. 

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