You always took too long to decide.

To choose the wide-eyed poet,
Who looked through her rose glasses
Even when you were surrounded by night,
Who went around with ruffled hair,
And cheeks streaked with bright paint,
Whose gentle melancholies only ever
Dripped beautiful metaphors on your life?
You were fond of her, of her innocence –
Could have loved her, despite the naivety
For knowing the bigger, better version of you.

To choose the mysterious scholar,
Who hid herself in between her books,
Glancing impetuously at you over glasses,
Who you could talk to for hours and days,
The world holding no mystery to her mind,
Whose tongue could burn you to the core,
A deadly yield on a single turn of phrase?
You were excited by her, by her intelligence –
Could have loved her, despite the bluntness
For making your mind come alive in her presence.

To choose the hell-bent warrior,
Who wore her scrapes and bruises with pride,
And would never back down from a fight,
Who talked about the shortness of life
Like her soul had seen things you never could,
Whose passion left marks on your skin
And crammed years of miracles into minutes?
You were intrigued by her, by her wildness –
Could have loved her, despite the roughness
For challenging you to push bravely at your limits.

To choose the refined lady,
Who had her hair styled and nails manicured,
And conquered the world in designer clothes,
Who could talk politics with a glass of wine,
And turned stones into gold with a touch,
Whose life was made out of possibility
That she could teach you to reach and grab?
You liked her, the opportunity she represented,
Could have loved her, despite the pretentiousness,
For showing you a future instead of a distraction.

You always took too long to decide.

Maybe it’s understandable, since you thought
Every choice in the world was yours.
You thought yourself as big as the Sun
But never understood you were a mere Fool.
What you never saw was that those girls
Were just too young to know better,
But they were still queenlings under the skin.
They were witches who needed not flaunt
Either their Wands or draw their Pentagrams,
They were warriors who needed not pull out
Their Swords and put up a fight,
To be given to drink from the Cups of life.

You took too long to decide,
And Queens wait for nothing and no one.
They made the decision for you,
And left to live their own lives,
Find Kings to kneel in front of them,
Knights to give their lives for them,
Pages to serve at their feet.
Queens don’t need you to find their thrones.
The world itself knows to wait on them
And never risk their wrath at making them wait.

Maybe you should have decided faster…

4 thoughts on “Queenlings

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