Princess of China

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.


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