The Princess in the blue dress.

I wanted to post this poem a bit later, but I think this is the perfect timing.
The princess in the blue dress is a mysterious character, but can be referred as the dark and dominant one in my life. Blue refers to sadness of course.

Posted at this time for my friend Clara.
I love you!

{

In a distant land, you see
Behind two mountains, three seas and four million trees, a palace is hidden. With a closed, silent, locked kingdom inside. Low royalty and misunderstood slaves.
I had arrived a while ago.
The princess and me.

She has tons of chambers. She shows me every single one of them. They are all colored like her eyes, her voice, the air she breathes.
Her dress;
Blue.
She has blue bloodstains on the wands and walls. She calls them tracks. And each one of them is named.

Some rooms are as dark as the universe. Some of them have painted stars on the ceiling, to the height she couldn’t reach. Some of them are too black to be blue.
Some rooms are as bright as the sky. As blue as the clouds could ever turn, or even brighter.
And she has rooms with all tones in between.

She told, and i listened.

Navy blue,
Royal blue,
Turqoise.

Midnight blue,
Carribean blue,
Aquamarine.

Electric blue.
Baby blue,
Teal.

Her attic was small. Her attic was red.
Not cherry red. Not apple red, berry red, or wine red.
Coral red. With a small treasure chest.
She didn’t let me in. She told me;
She hid her jewellery there. Her necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings.
Her heart. And the first kiss she got that never left her lips.
Her butter blue prince vanished. And only he has the keys to her attic.
It’s the butter blue prince, you see. The bruises on the wands of broken promises.

She told, and i listened.

The princess isn’t the princess type of princess. She makes no sound. Moves quick, silent and mysterious:
With an arcane technique.
They call her their princess, yet no one has ever seen her. She is the best in hide and seek.

They say things about her. They fantasise, but an olive-oiled skin she has. Golden locks and tight lipped coral red lips. Blue eyes like her smile.
She doesn’t.

The king’s daughter, yet the king has left a long time ago. Mellow, blue satin is her armour of sadness. She wears the ball gown like it is her crown to hide bruises of broken promises.

Her name is a demand. Her voice is a command.
She told them all to leave.
‘Leave’.
They obeyed. And she began.
She closed the doors and the windows;
The gates and wrecked the tunnels.

Hide – she whispers.
Hide so they can find you.
They are the ones who care, those who should be looking for me.
They don’t, they aren’t.
Hide, cover, shrink.

Run! Silent.
Tip toeing on bare feet,
Sticking floor, cold ground.
To the garden, toes in the wet gross muddy grass.
Through the roses.
Thorns in my soles.

She went left twice, right three times.
Up to a four thousand stairs, and left again.
Right?
I got lost. Because girls like me get lost too.
Much.

The king’s daughter. That’s what she goes by, I suppose. No one got the chance to ask her name, since she only ran away. Her name had something with the bottom of the ocean and the top of the sky, I believe.
‘Leave’.
Left. Alone.
We both are.

She listened to the blues and I’m the friend she dragged into.
I’m the one she let in.
She told, I listened.
Her name is a demand,
her voice is a command.
Her name was blue. Blue she was named.
But since I don’t have a room to rent,
I must act like I’m her friend.

In the bedroom? No, she’s not.
She used to float in thw waters of sadness, in her blue pillow and dress.
Her pillow filled with tears, she wants to drown inside.

She has her castle locked with locks,
For no one a chance to look or find.
There is no way to win this fight,
To seek the princess who told me to run and hide.

}

22-12-’17
01.39

 

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