Cinderella, a red tulip of a girl,
labors to free herself
from her glass slipper.
It holds her fast, prettily,
like a Waterford vase
constrains a flower.
The clock strikes twelve.
Petals fall. Stems droop.
Water evaporates and
blossoms are dumped
from cut glass to haute trash.
In darkness, Cinderella
rummages the dumpster,
searching for her
bygone beautiful self.
Meanwhile, vase and slipper
sit empty, ready to enclose
the next beauty.
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