Ariadne, Older

The tarnished, gaudily guarded
childhood ended in the quickest
moment - in the first shy
flickering of her eyes onto
the young prince, newly
arrived and glittering
with cruelty. He caught her
gaping look, smirked, and
shot his eyes skyward,
forgetting her completely.
Ruffled off like some
dirty city bird, her heart
twisted in a new feeling.
Had she been older, wiser, less cursed,
she may have recognized it
for what it was: the dull, gleaming
pain of disgrace, which must be
passed on in order
to be lightened of it.

She thought she was in love.