my not-prince

I don’t want a prince charming. 

I am not a princess.

I will not be set on a pedestal and protected from the world.

I don’t want to be in a tower, watching the battle below.

I will be on the ground.  In the dirt.

Sweat and tears staining my face.

Side by side with my not-prince.

Wielding swords and blocking blows.

Battling the dragons together.  

No tiaras, crowns or gilt.  

No simpering, fawning fool.

No knight in shining armor.

Don’t blind me with your goodness.

I want dirty, dented, battered armor.

Bloody, beaten, bruised. 

My armor is battered and beaten.

My life is written in every scratch and dent.

And I’m damn proud of the dents.

I need no one.

I will wait for no one.

I venture forward alone, surrounded my friends and family.

My journey goes forward, my adventure continues.

Who knows who I’ll find walking in the dust around the next hill.