golden heads

exactly a year ago,
fresh out of psychiatry
a new life
was handed to me.
like a charity-shop jewel
it bagged around my shoulders
and fit rather loosely.
so i folded up the green and yellow pills,
with their handy
bipolar-pregnancy-seizure advisory.
i decided that i was allowed to eat.
i would not look at goblin men,
much less buy their fruit.
and soft and fleshy apples
from a shy-eyed girl
seemed the safer thing to do.
yes, it's your birthday
three months
ten days
ago today.
and maybe, like lizzie, you ate the fruit
that caused me pain.
but it was not strength,
nor nobility,
perhaps not even love.
and now you ask me to your door
to see the angel
you dragged from above.
ask me to dose myself with drink
and pretend this unapology
is enough.