Between the tiled roof and the dirty wooden floor:
memories here, bittersweet,
(less sweet than bitter)
and the anger and the rain.
How could I forget? – the story you told me,
a wish for more perfect beauty
that I believed, falling backwards through
the clouds. Landing on broken glass;
cliché, I know, but so were you,
my handsome prince.
See what's become of us now?
Fighting again, worn-out battles
over bracelets and teddy bears–
was I ever more to you than
an audience? Someone to listen,
to dream with, to leave behind.
And still–
I see you hold a finger to your lips,
beckon me forward and I walk,
a puppet captivated.
If I could kill you, I would.
But words don't work that way, do they?
Author notes
Word bank: tiles, dirt, story, glass,clouds, glass, bracelets, bear. I think that's all of them.
This isn't really about a princess, or even a normal girl who gets lucky and marries Prince Charming; I'm not even sure there's actually a prince involved (maybe he's just a con man, or maybe he's a playwright; imagine him to be whoever you want him to be; he's that kind of man).
A contest entry
- The water doesn't ruin --x by Noir mariposa...x.
750 points, ended March 10, 29 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Honesty is appreciated!
Comments
-
"I see you hold a finger to your lips,
beckon me forward and I walk,
a puppet captivated.
If I could kill you, I would.
But words don't work that way, do they? "
I think I may have to steal those words
Loved this,
thank you so much for entering!
I wish you the best of luck!
Claire x
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