philophobia

fairytales

In the dead of night, 

the beginning of midnight, 

stars glistening in the sky,  

I think of the way she ran to the carriage, 

glass slipper falling to the stairs; 

didn't want the hour to strike, 

didn't want it all to end. 

it had to. 

At the start of sunrise, 

violet and gold, 

I think of how she slept through the day, 

waiting for the one to come, 

waiting for the arrival of his lips on hers. 

it would come soon. 

In the morning, 

I think of her reading the books in the library, 

in awe of the places around her, 

in awe of the beautiful creature in front of her, 

even though no one else could see it. 

she could. 

Throughout my life, 

I think of the many stories, 

the many versions of those in love,

the many heroines painting the canvas of my childhood. 

She has a dream, 

a dream of seeing the lights that make the sky worth gazing upon. 

She has a wish, 

to walk among those whom she cannot. 

I have a dream, 

to fall in with those that feel for me,

as deeply as I, 

feel for them.