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.
the air of the chimney – whips
mocking tales of fairy endings
creations of the devil
tempting us all
to one more day
of wishes, suffering, happiness
Fall again, nature’s efficiency satisfies me
with the consistency of sunsets I no longer watch
still I might like to see one more
the crisp air stinging my face
leaves crackling underfoot
air expanding in my lungs
feeling again, one last time
a regretful reeling of every mistake
every love misunderstood, every path not taken
the sensation of winter’s loss
sends a chill through my core
of the constant anticipation of spring.