i wanted truth, not pride,
not your truth, the way you hide
images, white, gray, and black
staples of color, click clack --
a howling storm yet to hit,
on it's haunches still it sits.

i wanted the truth exemplified,
shown like a first picture, glorified
taken - willing - into trust's embrace
and everything, love letters and lace;
it turned to ashes and maybelline,
your heart functioning more like a spleen.

i wanted the bitter truth historified,
but i find myself nothing but horrified.
my fingers are wilting and wrapped in dispair,
limp with disuse, ring slipped off without a care,
and i'm standing alone with my evidence
that you loved me as best as you could, my prince