
Rotten Apples
Classic fairytales are like garbage
They reek of rotten apples
Pungently infiltrating the nostrils
Like soldiers with glass slippers instead of boots
I never liked them
I could not relate
I did not find three princesses and only one prince charming that appealing
I loved my mother
Like the white rabbit racing against insecurity
Princes and I never really had time for each other
But once upon a time
While walking aimlessly through repetitive Disney movies and mainstream romance
I heard her
Yes, I said “her”...
I heard her every wispy breath
Singing like an angel amongst birds like the stories said she would
Listening not with my ears
But with the little hairs that stood up on my arms
Every time the wet words she sang hit my neck
She was my very own princess
Away in a castle all her own with crappy cell phone service
So we would use facebook messenger
She had long blonde hair in addition to her leather jacket and
skeleton tattoo
But I was no Flinn Rider
I was Tiana wishing for my Evangeline
Instead of a tower we were trapped in a closet
I knew when I saw her she did not need saving
She was a Scorpio
A woman all her own
A queer queen
She would never decay or grow pungent
Far from the smell of rotting fruit
Her lips tasted like hard candy but were as soft as velvet
As intelligent as Belle and as freezing cold as Elsa
she could fight her own battles
Instead of running shoeless she lived in the midnight hour
Compared to her I was like a fragile flower
Pure in my own right but deadly if ingested
Unashamed
We vanquished the villains that said we could not be together
And lived happily ever after
The end.