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I am ripe for falling in love today

I have put down the book I have been reading

Unable to bear the sharp outline of my loneliness

Against a fairy tale unfolding towards a path I have yet to go

In some vague future, a diverging path from the now

That seems to be going only in circles.

A kindness will easily earn a kiss today

Assuming, of course, that you are

A believer of magic, better yet, if you

Have it in your blood, and your nursery rhymes were

Chanted spells learned from your mother’s lap.

Assuming, of course, that you are

A lover of art, and of poetry, and of books —

the kind that time-travels to what-ifs more than what-was

The kind that is comfortable with the greys

And the other awkward colours in between the blacks and whites.

Assuming, of course, that you are

A ruler of your own kingdom

A queen-less heart ripe for falling in love

Who has slain enough of his own monsters

Who has made some level of uneasy peace with his demons

Go, send forth your goblins, your djinns, your ravens

Send them to find me, I am waiting,

I am missing a shoe, I have been sleeping too long,

The apple’s poison is seeping through my blood,

I cannot find my voice. I am here, cursed in an old woman’s form

Running after a moving castle.

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