*This post was accepted as an honorary mention.
each time i smile, the crack in my porcelain mask widens, and my round-glass emotions
nearly spill out. each time i frown, the crack mends, and my marbles are locked away,
behind a door without a key. but the right words have / somehow / gotten it / open.
the gleaming marbles within spilled without warning. she looked into my eyes,
cradling my mask, and told me we can pick these up if you want to,
but leave them alone if you’d like. again the shining jewels
fell from my eyes, but this time she wiped them away
and whispered—i can always hold some of your marbles for you.
it’s okay to ask for help. i poured out more marbles for her
that night, enough to last for years. they were
far too cold to be touched,
but she was there,
always there,
catching
every
single
one.
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