This story only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

This mist of loneliness wraps its fingers around my throat
And squeezes me into a vortex of despondency.
It prods the dirty heart in me
As the moonlight dapples its fingertips
On the surface of this silver midnight pool.

Ripples of tear drops roll across the waters
Like the ghosts of once-dreamed heroes
On charging snow-white stallions,
Racing to rescue a fairy princess.

But she will never be this forsaken lump
Of pathetic, care-worn misery
Who oozes through the greying light
And hides in ugly shadows.
I see their thoughts flit
Across the faces of passing clocks
And wish to turn their scorn elsewhere.

I am cradled in silver shadows
With burnished candlesticks
Keeping the worst of the terrors at bay.
If heroes could see this suspect princess,
They would know their fairy tale was ever lost.

Their princess is but a pauper
With a broken heart
And a silly dream.

This story only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.