Lately it’s all they think about,

Speak about,

Ask of me,

Want from me.

 

Mother,

Father,

“Find a wife,” they beg

But I only dread their voices.

They leave me no choice

But to feel empty inside.

 

They throw these big parties

To fill my heart

Evening

After evening.

But all they leave

Is me,

Feeling more empty than before.

 

Alone and cold

Like there’s no one in the world

Who actually loves me for me,

And not my kingdom.

 

Day after day,

Dance after dance

I feel my feet follow the steps,

See the faces flash

Before my eyes

But it’s all the same.

It’s all a lie

Every time.

 

They all come,

Every maid.

They all claim

To want the same as me.

 

But none of them know.

 

I don’t want a wife.

I want a life apart from fame.

Apart from thrones

And crowns

And maid after maid

Day after day falling over themselves

To feign

Falling for me.

 

A life apart from the one I have.

Perhaps to fall in love some day,

But not like this.

Not the way they say.

 

I don’t need to feel like there’s no other way.

 

So tonight I find myself sitting alone

Outside the ball,

Outside the walls of the place I call home.

 

Avoiding the faces,

The voices,

The spaces

That threaten to make my head cave in.

 

I stand up to walk

To clear my thoughts and mind,

But before going far

I come across the most peculiar find.

 

A single shoe

Abandoned on the stair.

It's not a heel nor a slipper.

It's not anything that fair. 

 

But a boot made for working,

Perhaps even for men.

It was covered in dirt, mud, and soot.

What foot might it bear?

Whose might it be then?

 

And just when I thought

I didn’t understand,

Something solid came and smacked me

Right on the back of the head

 

“Blimey, this blasted bloody balcony.

I’ll never get anywhere with too many

Of these too high steps

Every two feet.”

 

A voice not too far

Made its way to my ears.

I waited with curiosity

And just a wee bit of fear.

But all that appeared

Was a girl dressed in blue

With quite a few

Twigs caught in her hair. 

 

So I shouted, “Who goes there?”

Trying to sound strong.

But deep down I knew

That I sounded all wrong.

 

“A servant just trying

To find peace and quiet.

What is it to you

That I stand here to get it?”

 

“Uh-nothing at all,”

I somehow surprisingly stammered.

“I only wanted to know

What hit me like a hammer.”

 

“A-ha!” she chuckled

Like a silly cackling witch.

“If you think that hurt,

You don’t want to meet my fist.”

 

At that, I stepped back.

“Miss, I meant no harm.

Honest.

Just this shoe and its owner

Was all I wanted to know.”

 

Her body relaxed

And her shoulders eased up.

“I beg your pardon, sir,

I don’t know what

Came over me.

It’s only that I’m tired of people

Poking fun at

Who I ought to be.”

 

“I don’t make fun,”

I say sadly now.

“Especially not at those

Who feel like they’ve got no one,

No home,

Or a friend to rely on.”

 

For a moment we did nothing

But stare at the other’s face,

Wondering what space this was

That made us both feel safe.

 

And then she spoke again,

Gently this time

And like she knew no end,

And we found ourselves conversing

Like we’d always been friends.

 

We shared stories and tales

Of nightingales

Until the sun was gone

And the moon climbed on

And the night was all that could be hailed.