emotional reality | figure it out | poetry

give a girl a doll

and she’ll show you

what is being done to her


I’d use my mother’s red lipstick

to mark the blood wounds of my figurines


and like two pieces that didn’t fit together

I made my Barbie and my Action Man squeak and creak


my sister’s dolls were never meant to be clothed

never meant to have hair

a clear face

shedding invisible skin after invisible skin



not untouched

not uncoveted


I’d make my dolls perfect

I’d control their worlds

I’d be on top

my hands on their bodies

my words in their mouths

taking care of them

brushing their hair

dressing them

look at this beautiful house

everything they have

look [away]


I reclaimed my power when I played

but I was still only replaying your narrative


who’s in charge of my dollhouse?

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2022 | Instagram: croque_melpomene

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