Bankrupt of his majesty
the would-be, could-be king
falls into a paunchy old age
Quite literally

He was young once
the would-be, could-be mogul
fell into addiction, hard times
Quite typically

Now hobbling into oblivion
the would-have-been, could-have-been
falls for a younger princess in her thirties
Quite predictably

Standing taller
his would-have, should-have, could-have
falls away in the reverie of romance
Quite nicely for a time

Until his old habits hurt her
his should-be-s apply to her
falling in love hurts them both
Quite a bit

She was young once too
a would-be, still could-be
falling into the trap of thinking time is scarce
Quite often

She's teetering on oblivion
the would-have, could-have, should-have
falling for the allure of what-is-not
Quite hard

A patch of gray hairs dust her widow's peak
would-have, should-have covered them
falling in line with what's expected
Quite easily

Bankrupt of her majesty
the would-be, still could-be queen
rises into a vulnerable middle age
Quite determinedly

I am afraid
Afraid to grow old
To have my hair turn white
And my hands grow gnarled
I am afraid
Of time
Shaping me
Making me
A different person
Changing me
I am afraid
To forget
The time
Long gone
I am afraid
Of running
Out of time

-jt

She’s soft and smells like rose petals
Yet she scratches and scrubs
At blood red skin even though
It’s been washed a million times before
Tired eyes meet their match
In the silvery visage of their oldest friend

Crimson lips part, then furl
At the reflection who’s no longer a youthful girl
Auburn hair tumbling out of place,
Aging actress falling far from grace,
One clenched fist in a lace white glove
Eyelids dripping as she screams above