(for a.)
Your prince is waiting somewhere:
in a library,
or behind a Starbucks counter.
For your sake, I hope he is
humming something from "Les Miz."
I hope he is like Dad,
and plays the guitar.
I know already how he smiles at you:
tenderly, holding your image
like a Faberge egg.
I can see how quick he is to take your
hand oh why
can't you see it?
Still,
he is there, waiting for you.
He is reading a Neil Gaiman novel
at the Starbucks by your house.
As for the villain who stole your smile,
locked it in the basement with
the rest of the booty
(to be forgotten),
one day you will smile at him
with triumphant pity.
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