What if the fairy tales happened today?
Would they still live
Happily Ever After?

What if Belle asked the magic mirror to show her the Beast and when it did it revealed that he wasn't there alone?

What if Jasmine found out that she wasn't the only one Aladdin was taking for a ride on his magic carpet?

What if Ariel checked Eric's phone and discovered Facebook messages which proved he wasn't over Ursula?

What if Tiana learned that Naveen was still a slimy frog, catching anything he could with his tongue?

What if Snow White wasn't the only who the Prince was Charming? Following and charming as many princesses as he could on Twitter!

What if Sleeping Beauty woke up to find Prince Philip Tindering while she slept!?

What if Mulan found out that all Li Shang really wanted was to come over for nothing more than "Netflix and Chill"!?

What if Pocahontas kept in touch with John Smith through snapchat and all he wanted were photos of her wearing nothing but the colours of the wind!?

What if Rapunzel was left in the tower because Flynn Rider wasn't bothered to climb the tower, suggested they FaceTime instead!?

What if Cinderella discovered dancing at ***** was just a one time thing? That her happily ever after was just cooking and cleaning for the Prince in a bigger castle!?

What if living Happily Ever After is as old as the fairy tales that created it!?

He's damaged,
               Unfixable it seems
What others would call
                  nightmares
       Are his sweetest dreams
                And sometimes
  He takes his emotions
                               to
                            extremes
       It's so blatantly obvious
  When he finally
           breaks down
                    And screams
That the world
          brought him to his knees

                  He's a broken spirit.
       And I just don't know
   If my love
              can mend his soul
Or if my broken pieces
        Are enough to make
                                      him
                  ­                      whole.
       And if I use what
                       little I have left
To put him back together
                Won't that just
                                  leave me
      In a shattered pile of emotions
                   *forever?

Only we'll ever know our story,
The full story,
Just you and I.

And only you and them,
Will ever know your full stories,
You and all God-knows-how-many-of- them.

But now it seems all our stories share pages,
Intertwining and overlapping,
And that's the most harrowing part for me,
Because I wanted one story,
Just you and me.

I dread to turn the pages,
To find out how this ends.
I fear a happy ending does not await us,
But what I fear more is that you're not finished
Writing stories,
Without me.

The only thing sadder than
Not believing
In soulmates...

Is not believing,
When there was a time where
You once did.

summer rain
pouring down in strings
   suddenly
washes over
   the pain of many years
softly flows over the scars
soaks the old scabs
carrying them away

opening rain

it makes me sigh
   deeply
makes me remember
   moments of love
   hate
   passion
   despair

washing out
  sediments of bitternesses
  from ancient layers
  of thought and memory

it lights my desire
to again live fully
    look into a world of rain
   with fiery eyes

             * *

I am in love
And I fight love like a war
I wasn't trained for.

In the simplest terms:
Love is giving someone
the power to destroy you
and trusting they won't.

But how can I trust him not to destroy me
when I have become a mosaic:
picking up my broken pieces,
again and again,
only to arrange them into something
more beautiful than I was to begin with.

I guess this is why I trust him...
Even if he were to destroy me
I'd have more broken glass
to use for the masterpiece
that I've been creating for years.

I wonder if this is all in my head...
I'm no longer an enigma
but a work of art,
and an artist's work is never complete.

I suppose I await the day
when he picks me up
and throws me to the floor.

I swore I heard him say he didn't love me
the same way I love him
and I felt a piece fall and shatter.

I must wait
to add that piece
back in with the others
when I collect the remnants
of who I was before him.

...At least I'm used to it now.

I colour in my lips and
Draw on a smile,
I paint my skin and
Hide behind it all for a while.

I outline my eyes and
Shade them in,
Use dark colours and
Black lines so thin.

Sleek strokes of the brush and
Warm, rosy cheeks of pink blush,
Create the illusion that this is all real,
This laugh, this smile, this glow,
Yes,
Forget what's true, forget how I feel.