my knight in shining armor

I am doing my best
remembering fairytales and placing them
into broken slits self inflicted by my stories,
mistakes - I am using make-believe like glue to fix what
reality ruined; reality is ugly like
spit and broken veins.

I sit in the center of silence
wrapping up sleepless nights, sweat, heavy breaths,
choked up eyes, clogged lungs, filth,
with bloody fingers and the thing they call
a heart,
into a silver box to beautify what is dying;
a million things to one.

I am building my world to give him
because I want to be the hero in
fairytales and love stories that
end up dying but at least,
always loved;
So I gulp down acidity from his
words like "There's nothing left to us."
and try to picture faceless princes that saves Snow White
from choking on poison; I find it easier to believe
things are worth it, this way, and I never stop trusting that
one day if I trash away the delusional tales,
he'll still be standing with the
silver box in hand,

smiling the smiles that will save me from
what I am bracing myself for.