Let Down My Hair

Do you have any idea how heavy it is

to help someone into your room

by climbing up something

attached to your head?

It’s pretty

fucking

heavy.

The witch said it was my

punishment –

that children must always pay

for the sins of their parents.

The prince said

it was a part of my

penance –

though, in my defense,

the witch has a very low voice,

the prince, a very high one.

I did not fully understand

the rest of the penance

the prince forced

me to endure

until

my clothes became too tight,

my balance became wobbly,

and the feet began to kick me from within.

I cut my hair

close to my head

with scissors

before remembering

that witches can fly.

Not knowing what else to do,

I jumped from the window,

figuring the fall

would either free

the babe nestled within me

or kill us both.

Farleigh Castle Tower

She has the bluest eyes –

bluer than the sky –

blonde fuzz

covering a round head

and the greediest mouth

sucking in sustenance

quicker than I can replenish it.

I am tempted

to keep her hair

shorn short,

like mine,

which will never be long again.

Put her in breeches

instead of skirts,

teach her to use a sword

instead of sew,

and let her pave her own way

rather than locking her

in a tower.

Sometimes,

when the prince comes,

it is not for rescue.

Sometimes,

the prince is worse.

I do not love her as I should.

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