Dancing Clay Angels

your smile so fake

behind black and white photography

like city lights, 

bouncing off the nighttime clouds, 

and purple sky

so the picture lights up a sadder truth

bruised beneath

glowing, soft skin and flint grey eyes

not many can see

past an image constructed, so carefully

phone line concubines

convey an image, sad as lost dreams

a haphazardly treated

clay angel, delicately painted and carelessly

knocked off the shelf

as gravity lifts up your weightless body

and carries you up

towards swaying stars and clouds hung by

swinging strings

a summer dancer, shattered by frigid winter