Toy Dancer

By Amelia Blackburn

My eyes open just as the music stops,
the tune of it, lingering in my head, wiped away by thunderous applause.
People around me push their way out on stage,
and I reluctantly follow.

As I take a breath,
I see a girl nonchalantly walk on stage,
a look of boredom on her face.
It disappears, covered by a grin.
Her smile sits, painted on, throughout the dance.
Her white teeth shine, but she can’t put the same sparkle in her eyes.

I watch that girl all night, moving flawlessly,
like a toy dancer.

The music starts for the last time, a single spotlight flooding her face with warmth.
Even the glare can’t put any life in her eyes.

In mid-dance, she stops,
and I see the gears stop turning.
She runs off stage and out the door.

All toy dancers eventually break