Dear Cotton Candy Princess,

Who knew that with shaking hands,
you’d kill your captors,
no prince needed.

Who knew that with trembling eyes,
you’d challenge your suitors to
listen,
understand,
trust.

Do you have to answer to each other for
every dragon slayed?
every witch enraged?
every promise broken?
every heart stolen?

Who knew that with aching intentions you’d devour yourself.
Eat yourself whole, to examine each part.

Did you really take a knife and preform your own autopsy?

Here was where you created your own tourniquet and filed for divorce.
Here was where, in your desperation to be loved,
you went bobbing for love in acid, and came away with cavities and raw skin.
Here was where the gun was cold on your temple and the restraining order was paper in your hands,
and the man was horrible monster.
Here was where you whittled away as much of the rot as you could.
Here is where the scars shine
-soft pink and kissable.

Who knew that when love finally arrived,
he’d be every wish you ever made
– to your stuffed animals
– to falling stars
– to the moon
– to yourself.

Every wish, every promise, every pray –
made flesh and bone, almost two years before you were born,
before you ever even knew what you wanted,

He was there.

Motorcycle speeds, slick kisses, and stability – a potent potion for learning to love yourself again.
Who knew that with machinery, patience, and absolute tenderness, he’d heal you.

He knew.
He knew so that you could too.
He knew until you both did.

Best regards,

Cotton Candy Queen