Another dime store prince
living in a nineteenth century
Empty aluminium clamours in the night.
He’d already packed my things
but wanted my truths.
Frozen by fear, my truths are muted,
frost bitten, one more hurt
under the avalanche of snow.
The reflection of the city night, questions:
But in a world full of nows
there are no answers
and my dime store prince, so gentle,
so adamant to protect his solitary fortress –
he fears spending what he has not got
I wish this might have ended
different to the rest.