you hand the prince a loaf of white bread.
he rises, and from behind velvet drapes,
the day is strong, and proud,
and her harshest light envelopes the folds of your face,
wrapping itself around every flaw,
letting none sleep undisturbed.

you realize the reason you
want to have a hand in keeping him alive
is in his eyes, and how they’re
color of a lake you fell into once, as a child.