no prince needed

there are gods inside your mind gods and monsters, angels and devils (it’s true what they say – where’s there’s one there is always the other) oh, your blood is sickly sweet to the divine ruby rivers of sins and saints and storms they’d eat you up for dinner, my dear if you give them a penny, you give them a pound your pulse purrs to pains and pleasures such sinewy secrets slithering down your spine your body is a dream for the demons and the deities a cage of crimson curls and cuts all to catch a little ballerina girl balancing on breaths he says, trust me, trust this start, trust your heart and you think, trust is not for a woman made weapon here you are, sharp steep slopes and spinning stars a heart made of hollow hopes and hissing hurts life is limitless and loud and lonely for little girls who only ever learned how to run

He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.