This time

he's a little more careful

and so am i

it's much slower.

sweeter.

Realer, somehow.

This isn't a fairytale

where i'm swept off my feet by a Prince,

no,

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 misadventures

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.