midnight came,
to the champagne ball,
the prince,
(may he be exalted above us all),
toured in the finery,
of a white and black entourage,
gold embroidered thread,
blaring a royal purple wilting corsage,
the sounds of his waltz,
conceived on a ill-fated
midsummer's night,
faded from his lips,
which curled at my voluptuous sight,
instantly our fire rekindled,
the flame we had once about to burst,
his eyes became a golden flashing,
slathering, wolf-like thirst,
smiling discretely, ignoring the gasping birds of his guests,
I lifted my dress, to show him the shoes,
but as I am a lady, not the rest,
he put down his glass,
and got down on one knee,
leaning in close, to whisper,
sweetie...
giggling and blushing, I held out my hand,
before I noticed he'd taken the shoe,
at the same time motioning to strike up the band,
that sickening, sappy, song of a waltz,
dripped from his smile, and fell flat with a slap,
from half-cocked bow,
how was this lady expected to dance with him now?
he shrugged his shoulders, walking away in a trance,
mumbling to himself, something about midnight,
something about romance, some other girl,
some other chance, the prince,
(may he be exalted above us all)
pumpkined my midnight, when the clock struck,
the fairy godmother,
at the champagne ball.
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