aesthetician

on the shelf he places me. along with all his other pretty girls. glass limbs. porcelain eyes.

i so yearn for him to take me down. lay only with me. among the bricabrac. leave his seed in my belly. my womb to quicken with child.

but i'm only one among many. he doesn’t see me as special. so promiscuous in his sordid deviance. he loves all of us equally. but never husbandly.

not a one of us will grow plump with baby. so instead i sit on the shelf. my glazed eyes staring at the confectioners knife, plotting his demise.