Midas’ daughter- Ashton Darracott

By Ashton Darracott

The roses are stale 

Sour as the breath you wasted 

on your ‘gift’ 

I wish I’d thought twice 

before you reached out 

to comfort me 

My tongue is so heavy 

and I think in carats 

but I have no use for metal 

that tarnishes from greed 

Don’t hold me too tight, papa 

Or you’ll have to polish me after 

and Gods! please don’t look at me 

like that 

You’re the one with fingers that sing of riches 

and a heart that must weigh 

a hundred tonnes 

 

This existence is hideously heavy, yes 

But I never expected 

that I might think my shackles 

royal, even for a split second 

You had to ruin it, you did 

The garden I planted, pruned, loved, 

in my leisure 

You touched, tainted 

took for your pleasure 

When will you learn 

to love with your heart 

Or your eyes 

Something aside  

from your coveting hands 

 

Papa, sing to me 

I’m sorry; I’m angry 

and it’s lonely in here 

It’s too much to think 

about not getting older 

not getting married 

not getting to smell 

another flower 

again 

It makes my heart sink 

further than the sweet, rotten sediment 

at the bottom of the Pactolus River 

 

What will be next, then? 

Am I the new feature display? 

Or will you cast me aside 

just like the food you cannot enjoy? 

I see you’re starving, but 

I quite liked being alive 

So, if you wouldn’t mind 

Perhaps find a way  

to replace my stone with bone 

and this hellish cold 

with flesh  

capable  

of growing old 

These are simple things for a girl to ask 

 

And one last thing! Please  

don’t forget to fix the roses! 

 

 

 

 

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