prince charming was (not) looking so beautiful (broken)…
before he dropped his mask.

the outline of his muscles were seen through his tux,
the white was nothing near stained;
his hands fit perfectly in mine
and his cheeks felt softer against my lips…

the waltz we danced grew more elegant, and refined
taking us to a lush garden where fountains glistened
in the light of the nighttime stars…

with the darkness of the night, he dropped his mask
reluctance left him with the falling sky…
and everything was fine for the some moments…

we still danced with poise, with love, with joy
…until the clock struck midnight.

in the moonlight, he was not grand, but now his flaws
grew brighter than the stars in the sky…
his face was cracked just as badly as his mask on the asphalt…
his hands grew rougher, his touch no longer gentle…
his white tux faded to black…

poisoned, poisoned, poisoned,
he was not the same…

--

and prince charming isn't blowing me anymore kisses
tonight.