She whispered stars
into the evening
through strands of brown
that made up my world
My tiny eyelids fell
before paperback memories
of the little boy
dancing in watercolor
As her gentle curves abandoned,
I finally awoke
The boy,
not really a prince
And she,
my porcelain moon
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
She whispered stars
into the evening
through strands of brown
that made up my world
My tiny eyelids fell
before paperback memories
of the little boy
dancing in watercolor
As her gentle curves abandoned,
I finally awoke
The boy,
not really a prince
And she,
my porcelain moon
