Confines of the Ideal by N.A. Kimber (Canada, 26)

​Do you think you could save me
from the darkness and decline?
Bring me back to what I was,
beaming like sunshine?
Shall you be the white knight
come to save the cursed girl
with lips kissed with strawberries
and a crown of golden curls?
What disappointment will you find,
when no such creature exists?
When you are robbed of the glory
of a true loves kiss.

The truth is I do not need to be saved.
I find I suit much better the darkness and decay.
Do you expect me to leave it all behind;
follow you back like some little stray?
I do not covet goodness the same
as those I have left behind.
I seek only to be myself.
I hold no ambition to the divine.
So I shall not be your princess,
your goddess, your muse.
I shall not live to breed your glory;
in that I refuse.
But if you would like to come in
before you continue your journey’s walk,
and take a moment to rest,
perhaps we could talk.
It could be about anything
but it might be best to talk of you and I.
Tell me how your adventure began
and I promise not to lie.
I will tell you the truth of it,
how I came to be.
How I came to cast off the confines
so many used to ensnare me.
You see I was like you once,
a brave little fool,
unaware of how others sought to use
my life for a storytelling tool.
The pretty little princess
so good and so true,
perfectly made to be “saved”
by a handsome knight like you.
But I was never perfect,
much too curious and crude.
On their picture-perfect ideal,
I let darkness intrude.
The weight of their disappointment
was a burden I could not bear.
And so I packed my bags
and swore to never go back there.
In my travels I have found
the darkness suited me better.
It did not judge or turn me away,
making me a beggar.
Instead, it took delight
in all things my own.
And so I took the darkness by the hand
and made it my home.
It has not altered me,
left me twisted and changed.
It has kept me as I was, as I am.
I was always a little strange.
So you see, I do not need to be saved.
I am quite happy as I am,
though there are some who cannot handle it.
Why they give a damn-
It matters little.
I have said my piece.
Now you may rest,
indulge in this feast.
And on the morrow
I would see you go.
I am clearly not the ideal princess
you have come to know.
I wish you luck on your journey
and safe travels on the way.
I hope you find the girl
with lips kissed with strawberries
and a crown of golden curls.
You will find no such girl here,
not for all the world.
Such a creature is not as common
as an illustrious pearl.
So I beg if that is what you seek
to rise with the sun and go.
Take no mind of me;
there is nothing else you need know.
But if my words, in some small chance,
have caused your wishes to stray,
than rest as long as you like,
worry not for delay.
Strip yourself of all pretense.
Remove your tired disguise.
Bear yourself before me.
Let me see what lies behind your eyes.
Let me see who you are.
Let me see what is real.
Stripped as I am of the burden
and the confines of the ideal.





N.A. Kimber (she/her) is a writer from Caledon, Ontario. She is the co-founder of the online publication Forget Me Not Press which she runs with her twin sister and artist, K.E.Donoghue-Stanford. She can usually be found with a cup of tea in hand, knitting, reading, or (obviously) writing.