Frogged

I wanted the fairy tale

although I don't pretend to be a princess.

I long ago learned to rescue myself.

I passed over so many amphibious suitors,

looking for the one;

neither prince nor knight,

but someone to relish the sunset,

someone real.

I should have recognized the taste

of flies on your lips,

foul and forked.

I spelled eyes to see what wasn't there.

I forgot my feet as your tongue

oozed its sticky words.

Awakening, at last,

to your tongue thrust,

to your slime oozing off my chin.

There are no happy endings.

Find it here.

Just Be

Everything you ever did wrong
you wanted to fix with me, 
your tweaked rerun.
The casting was all wrong.

A bean sprouted from disappointed dreams,
I went off script, losing 
the pink swirls, the tea parties,
and the porcelain dolls.

Your prototype miscarried 
into gothic horror,
tarot card spreads and spirits
calling from the darkness.

My wings didn't sprout.
The tiara never fit.
My shields failed.

Layers of masks;
the paint is peeling.
Alterations and cuts,
the skin doesn't fit.

I struggle to breathe; to cut;
I'm corseted into the wrong role,
robed as an ill favored caricature.

I'm shedding your skin
into something reptilian and sleek.
Dropping the masks,
I still won't wear pink