Sunday, 19 April 2015

Day 19: Fairytale


A fairytale prompt - why not? 

There's something about that shoe in Cinderella, if things hadn't worked out so luckily (fairytale fate is always so helpful) that always reminds me of the irrevocable feeling of something meaningful being left behind...

Another Cinderella Story

It was all my fault. Romantic misadventurer. 
Treated suitors with flippant ardor.
Tried them on like I did new shoes, 
discarded them just as casually.
Love was a dream of hard won riches.  

I was too fussy, too aware of flaws:
some too tight, too big, too small,
too many laces, not enough bling.
Never saw the shoe for the places it would go
or the comfort it could bring. 

Always holding out for the perfect one -
that Cinderella glass slipper shoe-in,
a fairytale, a ball, everything moonlit
and yes, a prince that would fit. 
Love was nothing if not a magic spell.

You were utterly charming, there's no doubt. 
Could coax a smile from me every time, 
laughter lines to scale any tower or moat. 
Light skipped a beat when you were near. If this 
was love, it was easy as being barefoot.  

Then, one night at the ball. Moon and stars 
aligned. But I turned on my heel for the horizon -
didn't care for you there beaming beside me: 
a mirrorball romance, a midnight chance
I didn't take.

See, I wasn't willing to walk the miles. This love 
I thought, was premature, curfew-making.
So I kicked you aside like a pinching shoe.
Ran away and never looked back.
Knew, I had broken your heart in two. 

But that was years ago, once upon a time.
And this is now, real life. I don't know where 
you are, have no royal means to seek you out. 
No shoe, no clues. Your name is a wish 
I can barely say out loud. 

Now I tiptoe around any mention 
of happily ever after. With you, I felt
most like myself - that was true. 
Realise too late now I left behind 
my very best fitting shoe. 

But what can I do? Fairytales lie and brag.
This is a love story of riches to rags.  

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