Why was I built so large? I feel like a monolith on the bed, my fatigue measurable in tons, my height in storeys. My flesh feels made of stone, and not the porous kind. I am immense when I’d rather float and pirouette and flitter up into the ozone like a butterfly.
I want to be the perfect woman, and only then might you love me. Unseen, unheard, unformed, uninformed. Not of the senses even, except in those moments you wish to stroke me, to extract pleasure from my negative spaces. I wear the uniform of woman.
I will do this for you because I can: make myself hollow, a vessel. Create a vacuum for you, extract your innards with my stillness, with my absence, with a winsome smile on the veneer of my mannequin face. I am your doll.