Porcelain

Porcelain
by M. Allshouse

I loved you—
held you in my hands like you were porcelain—
one wrong breath could crack you.

So delicate. So sacred.
I handled you with reverence—
and despite how you’ve hurt me…
I still do.

You felt small and boxed in,
and all I ever wanted
was to help you grow.

But you cling to that box you despise
with iron claws,
afraid to prove what I already know.

Destined for greatness,
but shadowed by your own preconceived notions.

You run from me like I’m the villain,
when all I wanted
was to be your stage.

I loved you.
But loving you was never going to be enough
to ever make you stay.