Clay

Too young to have a presence
Of my own,
I trusted you to tell me
Who i was.
I was your clay.
You put your hands all over me
And molded me into
Who you needed me to be...
Fragile,
Exposed,
Isolated,
Wounded.
You tirelessly worked
To shape me
Until, at last, I was the little girl
Of your dreams...
Naked,
Bleeding,
Shaking
At your hand,
Those long fingers.
Your body pressed
Against mine.
Heat carefully hardening me.
Impurities removed...
Hope
Joy
Love
And the shell that was left,
You pronounced to be
Exactly what you were
Looking for.