dramatic monologue

Once upon a time,

When my hair was still brown,

my waist still slim,

my dreams still in tact,

I met the man who would change it all.

A silent fighter he was,

never giving up or just letting it be.

I watched him slave away,

scrutinizing the words on the page.

ever fiber in his being went to the books, to the people,

nothing to me.

I stood like a pillar watching it transpire, 

knowing that what he wanted was what would be. 

He was always on the move, 

only returning home for a photograph or two, 

ones that forced the family together with the fake glue 

he called publicity.

The flashes went off, the poses changed,

but the people at the end of the session remained untouched.

Driven and headstrong,

complacent and silent. 

He rode away on his noble steed, 

his knights in shining greed.

He thought I didn’t know.

I was glad to let him have his ice skaters and Sadie Burkes

because he left me with my pride and joy, my Prince.

The young prince in whom the king took much pride,

dropping anything to be by his side.

never mine. 

We fought over him and how he should grow up,

in the righteous kingdom of his father, or in my humble abode. 

It was never our home. 

The prince grew to be what he was

 and he did leave me with something great, 

even if society thought it was a mistake.

I should’ve intervened. 

I should’ve said no.

Maybe they would still be here.

Maybe I would still have my son.

Maybe I would still have my version of a husband. 

No one came to their rescue, 

no fairy godmother to wave her magic wand,

to heal the injury of my beloved prince,

or safeguard the heart of the king from his assassin’s bullet.

But who says we have to live happily ever after?

Being alive is enough. 

-Lucy Stark