New Girl

This hurts.
This hurts.
I don't know why  I clung to that slender thread of hope.
I still have a sliver left.
I hope,
I hope,
I hope without hope.

You know, I was called beautiful today.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
It makes it so much harder to believe now.
Like a distant dream.
This hurts so much.
Fragments of me are shattered all across the floor, continually struggling to reconfigure itself into a useful vase.
But I'm not meant to be useful.
I'm meant for entertainment.
Take me off the shelf, dear, and I'll amuse you.
I love you.
And I'll keep saying that until it becomes past tense.