I believed. I hoped. I was romantic.
Spoilt rotten with irresponsible fairy-tales
About some prince on a white horse
On a mission to rescue his princess.
I wasn’t a princess.
I didn’t need to be rescued.
But… I believed. I hoped. I was romantic.
“He will find you,” Mummy always said.
“Who is “He”?”
“You will know it when you meet Him.”
I thought He would know too…
Happy bullshit fed to a hungry fantasy.
Moonlight walks hand in hand…
Master and Margarita. Almost.
Now I prefer dark rooms with all lights off.
And no stars outside. Please.
Flower withering in my vase,
Silently, and alone, stubbornly proud,
Exuding the most intoxicating odeur.
I bought it, and I am enjoying its death,
I have the right to.
Days pass, nights have already passed.
“What do you see in me?”
I was romantic….