Knee deep in foul water,
Leaves limp at my side
I bow my faded head.
Like an autumn oak
I age,
Like a desert river bed,
Dry and cracked
I am tired.
My youth spent foolishly
Following fancy
Finding my soulmate was a mistake.
Now a single flower no longer pretty,
Wilted and brittle
I lived so little
And gave my hand and my heart and lost my head in a fairytale.
A story with no happy ending.
A twisted tale that mothers never told little girls at bedtime. In other words, the truth.
Little by little, petal by petal, I come apart. Like a work of art deconstructed to the rotten, withered core.
A flower no more.
But a naked, thorny twig.
Who could even imagine what I once was.
