i was fine china.
my grandmother
locked me up for safety.
never to be used,
and never to be
hurt

but,
you always felt the need
to take me out of the cabinet
and treat me like a play thing.
no care for my fragile state,
my ornate beauty.

thats the thing,
i was frail,
thin enough you could crack me
with only a touch
you neednt
throw me around.
speak loudly and with conviction,
and my beauty becomes tainted.
no longer does a common viewer
see me as
palatable.

now,
loving me requires work.
i am no longer the china
contained and validated
through others’ opinions.
i am instead,
the mosaic of the glass
after it plummets to and scatters on
the floor.

my beauty is in the pieces
and the new beings they create.
no longer a cup
cradling your abuse.

you broke what i was.
and that let me be
anything
my strong,
beautiful,
unbreakable self wants.