The sliver of time before I became tragic
Was it a wicked serpent’s word
Some desired autonomy
This devotion to husband and child?

Think with me honestly
What of heart’s protracted pain
Is my sweet apple affinity
My downfall?


I whitewash this moment
A pull toward neverland
Grasping at fairytale notions
I never took to in the first place

It seems they’ve chased me down
My five year-old me
Waved their collective magic
And deemed I will believe