he's a little more careful
and so am i
it's much slower.
This isn't a fairytale
where i'm swept off my feet by a Prince,
this is the real world
Where i'm embraced
by open arms
and two bruised, patched together hands
grip my shirt
and i offer him the same.
i prefer the real world
because the knight's armour is too shiny
he's never fought,
and instead a farmer tells me about his week
and we eat
and we laugh at pur shared troubles
and we spend time apart
and we crash back together
and know that, even if the kingdom goes down,
we have something better than perfection.