NEPTUNE BURNS

The Witchling

I.

A girl with powder blue eyes and yellow hair looked at me one day and decided I would be a rock for her to erode. She called me her princess with roses she collected thrust into my hair / thorns prickling and cutting cutting hurting / and no voice/ I was her little mermaid. Big eyes and chicken-heart, too weak kneed to tell her loving me meant letting me walk on land / I let her call me her side show attraction. I was her fish-girl. Loving me, she had said, was loving someone who refused to give in order to obtain. But, my land witch, my blue eyed human, loving me was loving a wild thing, I know. Being loved by you, dear one, was being in a fish tank. You would not let me have my legs and I never stopped resenting you for it.

II.

I'm sorry I let you treat me as if I were mute / an abundance of love with no need for it to be returned / cherished for being a good fish / for learning to breathe out of water without having legs / for letting your need to keep my voice and my tail condemn me to a fish bowl. I am no victim without also being an instigator. I took the bait / I chose to stay / I chose to be your rock that you used used used and expected more from / but I chose to also leave you loveless / to make you feel deprived of air.

III.

This is no apology / i hurt you you hurt me / this is the real story of the little mermaid / this is her telling you she remembers how to use her voice / and she is through being guilt tripped into returning to her tank.

unpleasing for her super stunning poetry that left me breathless