Once upon a time somebody ran–sworn to his convictions; he’s but a man–and was gone within the dead of night to disappear before eyes learned sight. A cold breath of sorrow to lull the season; his corpse of doubt, alive with treason.
They were lost behind a lie on the same side. He’d blithely forgone trust to honour his pride. Lost behind a lie that burned bright, she tossed strength aside to the edge of what’s right. Her matted tears of passion shorn under his flame, were purged; undone by sorrow and the mess of his shame.
Once upon a time felled them apart. In each of her hands, two halves of one heart. He stole her star. A pitied empty jar. Her broken, bleeding star. Embittered; turned to tar. He stole her star; a seed of faith, her star. A candled germ to mar. Her withered, craven star.
She could have been a princess, and he, her king. He could’ve built a castle upon her ring.