"So this is love..."

The thought echoes off the caverns of my mind,
as cold and empty as the darkened motel room in which
I am grateful I cannot see

I do not want to see the person lying beside me
This supposed Prince Charming who doesn't
Look as I imagined
Sound as I imagined
Feel as I imagined
Does it matter if he can save me from myself?

The bed shifts
and my ghost nearly jumps from my skin because
I can't believe this is reality,
land of the living,
when all I feel is
disconnect
and
death

The clock struck midnight long ago
The spell-in-a-glass wore off,
potion bottles strewn empty around us
No dress
No carriage
The magic is gone

"So this is love," I sing quietly, coarsely, through dry lips

"So this is what makes life divine..."

...

No.

No, I won't have it.

My eyes burn like my throat had hours prior.

I won't have it I won't have it

I tear out of bed with a vigor I've never felt before
My heart burns too, now,
the fire spreading through my body,
emanating off my skin as I search for my things

"What?" a voice asks from the bed.
My Prince Charming.
"Where are you going?"

I don't owe him an explanation,
and at that thought,
all the forests, frosted over within me, erupt into flame
I welcome the destruction of the diseased woods
I refuse their roots
The fire fills the vacancy

"You're just leaving? C'mon..."

I can't find my shoe.
To hell with it!

I tear out of the motel room. 
The chill hits me:
Death’s grasp, a reminder that I’m alive.
The fire within keeps me warm,
Spills out my eyes,
Floods me with relief.

I cradle myself as I walk the unfamiliar streets.
I know I can't go back to my life before.
I refuse to do that to myself.

And as I cradle myself,
the warmth inside me burns brighter
than any fleeting flight of passion
I'd experienced before.

"So this is love..." I sing through foggy breaths,

Breaths reminding me that I'm alive.

"So this is love."