NOT HER KIND OF MAN.

She couldn't quite get it all together,
Couldn't make it fit. The world, at least her
Aspect of it, seemed to fall apart, come

Undone at the seams, revealing her frail
Naked soul or self or whatever it
Was that made her she, the one she couldn't

Get together from the realities
That filtered into her brain from here now
And there then. She waited in the wings of

The world's hard touch, waited anxiously for
Some prince to come, but none did, at least none
That she had recognized amongst the throng

Pressing in from every side, making
Noises and gestures of some princely kind,
But they just never quite made it through as

Her princely sort. These could be sold or bought
For coin or cash, could make her laugh or cry,
But couldn't make her feel that she was one

Of those princess kind, that she was extra
Special in their eyes or heart, and it was
That, that otherness, that tore her apart.