The princess whisking herself back into the clutches of the dragon.
She catches her own skirt on the turrets of the castles she’s climbed over,
only to give up at the sight of the sunrise,
climbing back down into the dungeons of the castle,
curling into the warm claw of the beast’s hand,
because it shed a single tear when it realized it had nothing more to protect.
The prince is outside waiting on his steed,
and I’m telling him to leave me alone –
Come back next week.
Come back when I can get over the wall,
it’s too difficult now, and I’ve grown tired.
I’ll need the rejuvenating bite of the wolf in my side before I have the death I need to walk through the gate.