Oh, Maybe He’s Not My Prince

I ring him at 130 AM on NYE
in a dress that sparkles pink and gold
my queen he says
I smile
into a glass reflection of blue and red and white city lights
my feet hug a white carpet as the music plays and the bodies sway in the room beside me
I smile as I see your name on my phone
I have had you on my mind since we let go
hello
it is not you that answers
she is nice
a little drunk
she says she doesn’t know where you are
but that she’s heard of me
and that he will be happy that I called
and I am not sure whether it is my gut
or feverish paranoia
speaking
when I suddenly wonder
if you are there silently
not wishing to speak to me
or if you are kissing the woman with the brown hair
and then I wonder if I’m in a madness of insecurity
and if I’m making it all up
all I know is that it’s 9 PM on the day after
and I haven’t heard from you since
and the security isn’t there
because it is new and we are grey
and I know how to ask for what I need
(for I truly am a queen)
but you are not there to answer
you are not there to reassure me
I am not sure you are really there at all
where you really there at all?
did I give you too much credit too soon?
and that little gut feeling kicks in
of
oh
maybe he’s not my prince.