She’s the princess

And she works hard to show people

She is pure princess, one and only

Her intelligence constantly pushing

To outshine everyone in the room

And God knows Nothing matters

More to her than maintaining her

Facade of pristine sophistication

With the possible exception

Of exuding her air of perfection,

Being the boss of everyone around.

She’s a princess in her own right,

Crying if she’s seen vulnerable

Because she won’t come unglued.

And she’s my best friend,

I’m so proud of the cellist in the pink dress.

Only now she walks the beach

With next to no makeup on

And her hair loosely blowing,

Chaotically unrestrained in the wind.

She can’t sink her walk into heeled boots

Or calm her hands with a manicure touch-up.

She can’t hide that she’s trying way too hard

To force that tear back into her eye.

She may be the princess of the school

But even Little Miss Perfectionist

Is not immune from being human.

And as moments pass I notice

That there is nothing in the sky

But purple clouds, thick like a new pillow

I watch her slip away

Her body losing itself, the pounds evaporating

Until she’s so delicate she’s sailing away

Floating uncontrollably as she struggles

To force herself back down to the ground

And her tears make the rain pour at last

She is crumpled up paper now, and destroyed.

The princess vanishes and I wake in tears again.

“A woman lifting up the ends of her white wedding dress on a forest path” by photo-nic.co.uk nic on Unsplash

Thanks to all for reading and a special thanks goes to Taylor B. for the encouragement to record my dreams.

See more of my mind:

…BRD…

I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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