“people don’t wear tiaras on an
everyday basis”
you said,
and silly me, i lowered watery lashes and
bowed down,
metallic and crystalline clattering at your feet.

once upon a time i was
daddy’s little girl and
in the shawl of homelife tenderness,
nobody thought to bruise my wide-eyed belief.

you are nothing like them.
their forever-and-always pulled me close,
spread wings above my wanderfeet and said
“we love you so, whoever you become”
and from this lifeline love i learned to fly.

i never thought i’d be the girl
who let a colder pair of eyes
lower mine.