Alissa Hembree Poet Rhyme

Plastic and Paperbacks

I used to press two plastic hands together,
And stage a perfect love upon the floor.
I watched my grandparents and thought that forever
Was something simple, safe, and guaranteed by law.
I was so little then, so sweet and naive,
Building a kingdom out of make-believe.

I wanted to be Cinderella in the ballroom light,
Spinning with a prince until the clock struck midnight.
I wanted to be Ariel, with children of my own,
Building a happy family beneath the ocean foam.
But storybooks are flat, and fairy tales lie;
The colors fade away as the years go by.

Growing up means watching the illusion break.
Learning love is heavy, a constant, fragile ache.
It isn't always admirable; it isn't always kind.
The gentlemen I dreamed of are impossible to find.
Now the thought of marriage feels like a foreign land,
And holding a child feels too heavy for my hand.

I promise I am not just waiting for the perfect guy.
I promise I am not just building walls up high.
I am just Belle now, left alone with my thoughts,
Finding comfort in the pages and the lessons I was taught.
But even Belle found magic in the castle's quiet spaces;
Even she found love in the most unlikely places.

Yet my fairy tale ending looks different inside my head.
No prince, no gown, no promised vows to be said.
Just a quiet room of books, a life I built by hand,
A solitary kingdom where I am proud to stand.
Maybe the happy ending isn't a shared forever—
But learning to love myself, alone and altogether.

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