He spins everything
In blues and greens
Because they are his favorite.
He dresses me in taffeta and crinoline
And builds castles for me to live in
With his words.

He opens the door
For me every single time
And writes scripted
Soliloquies on notebook paper.

He
Pushes for nothing
Giving me 100 percent attentions
In every detail
Until I feel like I could scream:

I am dirty:
Spilling of decadence and corruption
And I light my feral brain with
Unclean materialism
And he doesn’t know
That I want to fight with him-
To prove that I am not worth
His goodness.
Because I don’t believe in hope.

I hide
In overcoats and my brothers trousers
And write my name backwards
And introverted with anothers
Because I don’t believe in my name’s definition
And fall asleep in a heap.

He spins everything
In blues and greens
And stares at me with his
Magical mushroom eyes
Until my tepid irises
Brim with glass tears.

He
Jumps through
The words webs
And petty presumptions I’ve created
And whispers my name
While I turn my back on him
And…

…Everything swims in confusion,
because my world is falling apart.

I knot
The anxiety welled up in my red and black stomach,
And throw it out the window
And breathe in
As I toss him out too,
Because there is no chemistry
In this fairy tale.
And the prince, just isn’t for me.