Her face without flaw. A small chip or two of paint, but that was all. She was perfect. Perfection was how she was made. Perfectly on her toe, knee bent, foot high on her thigh, hands in first, high head, sharp direct gaze, tight bun. Her pale skin, and slight blush. A perfect ballerina. No one questioned it when he walked out with her. Oh, how they danced. Perfect harmony. Spins, leaps, splits. Such a sight. Bows were given as awards were taken. He would smile and cry with each one.

She would sit in his corner, just awaiting the next dance. Girls would filter in. A frown she wished she could give. Moved from the corner to the back shop. She would listen, and sometimes watch. He did nothing to please her. She was never one of those girls.

But every night, he would come in and fix her. Fresh paint, a new joint, a new move, a new memory each time. He smiled truly as he worked. Black covered his skin, and always clean it with a filthy rag. She would sleep then, and awaken for the next show.

Dancing, girls, fixing, sleeping. One day after one day. A hand would touch a hand. She would blink, following his movement. Another girl would soon arrive, and she would go in the back.

He cared about her, and would smile as she rested. Fixing her perfect bun. Cold metal reaching his skin. A kiss on his creation, on the top of that bun.

Another dance, but something gave. A screw not placed perfectly inside. The leg shattered beyond repair, and he lost more that day. In the corner, and no girls that night. No touches, and no new memories.

Rust built on her, starting from the broken leg. Growing up, and down the other. Around the perfectly thin hips, up the slightly toned abdomen. Down the arms, up the neck. Covering the paint, removing all features of her. Working its way in, closer and closer to the middle.

You could say the rust destroyed her.
Really, it was just her broken heart.

A/N: that was...sad. I'm tired, and my brain made this. I hope you liked it, and please comment. (-<) <3 ^_^