Castle By Beatriz Rosa

In this heart lives two: 

the woman I am 

supposed to be, and the little boy

who lives beneath that notion. 

The beloved Queen had not realized there was 

a young prince in the castle who had yet learned to speak 

and, fearing the kingdom's disdain bathed him

 in duct tape and pushed 

him so far her arms could no longer reach.

In this heart lives two 

and the prince has learned how to crawl.

The duct tape lost its adhesive clutch, but the castle has matured 

into a fourteen year old body, the queen

holds the young toddler, away 

from the kingdom but close to her heart. 

She sits on her throne, he sits in her lap, 

admiring her golden scepter, stretching 

fingers towards the diamond she no longer tries to polish.  

In this heart lives two:

The Queen and the prince who exchanged

flat irons for buzz cuts, lipstick for Blistex and

ballgowns for three piece suits. 

The Queen still reigns but her rule is not fierce, 

for she trusts the prince now and refuses 

to cast him aside again. 

The scepter his eyes admired lies in his 

firm hands, and he demands the space this castle

has slowly broken bones to reserve for him.

In this heart lives two.

The prince is now King.

The Queen bought a bigger throne 

so they both may sit. 

What else were they supposed to do 

but co-exist? Mix forms, shapeshift,

 sip from the same pulpy fruit that 

pulses for the sole purpose of feeding a rebellion, 

after gifting him all her hollow chest could offer, 

crowned him with chainmail armor and 

some highlight every so often to blind scornful eyes.

He sits next to his mother,

and she forces the world to 

love him 

in her every 

step.