with my mouth right up against your ear i will whisper ‘imagine’:

my breath on your neck will make both of us shiver so that around us hawthorns spring up ripping the earth as they do, o terrible sound, oh, oh — branches heavy with berries like jewels, o terrible colour, oh, oh — branches lacing together like a child’s hands folded in prayer and no one listening, holding us fast, holding us together, and apart.

just one word, that one.

no prince comes.