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fool-moon wed

right at the end of that nightmare
when prince charming was about
to kiss my lips
while I pretended to be slept, pale and gorgeoulsy thin,

my cellphone rang
and it was him, mr wherewolf,
at the other end of the line:

he wanted me to stop faking
he argued I was mistaken
he knew I did not wish to get married,

forever,

but while he cried and struggled with my false conviction,
his wife called him for supper
and my prince asked for his horse,
all white and rapid,
to bring him back to never-ending happy land

now here I am,
in my bed, at the start of a new dream,
waiting for another bell to ring
and another full moon to shine.

Poetry by emily chambers
Read 1239 times
Written on 2009-03-09 at 19:12