whispers under weeping willows
tell terrifying fairytales
of quaint cottages and beastly ogres
that come out at night to play.

that's why fairytales
became bedtime stories
and little girls nightmares
were only the beginning.

I crave coffee breath
hidden under a half
dissolved mint
and a kiss on the cheek.

he sits patiently
typing an email
to his boss about
why he deserves this promotion.

he works for a
publishing company
that rewrites fairytales
to make them more friendly.

he brings home
Grimm and grades
poorly written papers
on the side.

I stare
and drink cozy chamomile
tea as I reminisce
on the nightmares of yore.

maybe that's why
I love him,
and I stay with a man
destined for bad dreams.