ANGELS ON CRACK

c a s t l e s

fairytales do not exist, so why fantasize about a prince?

but when he laces his fingers through mine, it is like soft sunshine euphoria when it bears down on the mesmerising gardens of billowing clouds, effervescently injecting my pale cheeks with bougainville blush and the sheer mist of young love.

call me by my name, make me feel like a princess, spin me around madly. do not fear though, for i will not hesitate to dance to the same, hasty rhythm that mirrors the beat of our conjoined hearts.

tell me sweet nothings, kiss me on my forehead, for i will wear the ghost of your lips like a crown. i do not lie, this is the truth, for with every moment i spend with you, i feel my desire for power satiated more with the mere knowledge that i am your queen, as you are my king.

twirl me around, careful with my skirt, let's dance to the sound of our castles crumbling. we shall bat an eye not, for what use is a prison of stone and silk when i have found my home in you?

i feel nothing but pure serenity and kismet amalgamating to blanket me in fairy dust kisses and comforting cups of hot chocolate, but when your arms encircle mine, i feel your fingers on my back, weaving daisy stems into the voids between my ribs, still damp from tears you spent on me.

now, inhale the sweet petrichor in my lungs, drink it all up, leave me breathless.

and when you do, breathe life into me.