dim eyes under the invisible stars
and between the breath you stole,
i have taste the bittersweet stench of love
and memorize the hands that had touch;
fingers against fingers, palms against palms
and may the moon weeps for the could-have-beens -
dear Those Who Rule, please let the music play
fingers trickle across your guitar
eyes sting of the piano
empty mumbles over the violin:
they all are playing for my longing hearts
that yearns for you-

but no.
this ball will be the last for the night,
these stares will stop this moment
and let me escape before anyone notices
but when you pick up on my absence

continue on playing please,
maybe that faint guitar could put me into a dreamless slumber
on the highest of towers (where my face could hide from you),
tell them the tale of us
in the way your hands move,
the strings vibrate,
the sound comes floating about.

these magic glitters couldn't even save us
and don't cry your tears for me
the Not Princess is not worth any of it;
just sing that tune patiently
and walk away when the last curtain falls.

i will be a memory you bury
one you'll forget.
thirty years from now, the Not Princess will be just that:

i hate happy endings that Are Not.