Sunday, October 9, 2011

Queendom for a Prince.

Princes, frogs, gentlemen,
whatever they may be
this heart seems ruptured by each
whether by their love or lack thereof
or even just the mention of such
oh how the Others mock my heart
for wanting a prince, a love, a man
how the Others break my heart
for calling every man I note: Frog.
My heart suddenly feels unwise,
insincere, unlearn'd, never clever.

The drop. and my heart barrels down
down through my chest, through the earth
burying itself far from heavens' light
and disintegrating, decomposing
far from the light of any love
and crumbling under the pressure
Who am I? no, who are they,
They, who discount what my heart sees
They, the Others, who mock the heart
They, who cannot see as I do
but plunder through to blunders
hammering tears from its tender skin
til the delicate tissue of my heart tears

My Queendom for a heart.
A Kingdom for the love of my words.
All the land for the peace of my mind
Ne'er can there be one who fits the bill
It seems there is no prince as they would have
for they would not have anyone for me
No, not a single one at all.
oh the Others seem cruel.
To themselves, wise.
To us, with a smirk, we'd say 'smart'.
How cruel that I must be a hobbit
Tucked away in my hole
without a soul to love as mine.
Cruel enough that I am as unusual
but what casual heartbreak method
that those like myself, I may not see.

© copyright by Michèle Aimée Lahaie, 2011