In the dream,

I pulled the pink sash off her dress completely,

until the only pink I saw was the pink soft crater on her breasts

and to have her look at me with such intensity again

Accusing me of denying her freedom

In the dream,

she did not go to the ball

I did not see her twirling for the prince like a duster twirling on old bookshelves 

caressing the binding with a quick swish swish

spreading pixie dust and making my heart float

I envied the dress as it consumed her on the dance floor

In the dream, 

I grabbed the slipper and smashed it until it was grains of sand again

Her tears, I kissed away in successive pecks

the soot on her face, I licked away that night

she would not have to sleep in the cellar

Mother can hurt herself trying to stop me

She would be under my protection

and I, in her arms

My Cinderella