Rumpelstiltskin

As I see it now, our future was foreclosed as a depression farm, considering
how his dark eyes woke my appetite, led me

to weave gold into straw, to label that straw, love, while I learned
to praise the stones in some basement room.

I adore you, he declared each time,
then swore he was grinding out a better life for us, but he lied

when he told our story, said I would do anything for him.
Well sure I spun, could you say no? Blue-blooded, he had everything

a girl could want, so—yes, I would. And yes was what
he whispered when he sat me at the wheel. How wild that

little man turned me when he called me sweet baby, while
I sweated all night in the cellar, pretending to give in until

I sent him flying with his own true name. I tell the story
my way now he’s gone. But I’m on guard whatever comes along.