the fallen queen enchants
cupid’s arrow meant to lead to love
to do the opposite–
lead her to the one she most hates.
razor golden tip turns to wicked black.
she nocks the arrow, lets it fly
fly, fly, through the silent forest
through the stillborn air
through the doors of her castle
stabbing the silver mirror
cracking her reflection into a million shards.
I am the queen.
I am the mirror.
I don’t need an arrow to tell me
who my heart hates most.