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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2178242
This is not a poem about the prince. This is about the first guy.

All of them thought I had slept.
Everyone in the kingdom had cried.
I lay motionless upon a satin bed,
As if I had literally died.

I wasn't sleeping or ignoring.
I lay trapped within my flesh.
My eyes wouldn't open; my hands couldn't move.
But I always looked pink skinned and fresh

My lids were too heavy to lift,
But I heard every word that was spoken.
When would the right someone come `round to kiss,
So this evil spell would be broken.

I lay there and lay there;
Days rolled without end.
People passed; castles crumbled.
For no one could I send.

Then one day I heard it.
Footsteps shuffled in the grit.
My prince had finally arrived.
I commanded my body to sit.

My muscles would not obey
To the orders I gave with my mind.
I'd hoped my savior knew to kiss;
Not think me dead and leave me behind.

The feet shuffling seemed odd to me,
But it had been long since I'd heard such a sound.
Who cares if the noise is peculiar?
It's been years since another was around.

Butterflies danced in my stomach.
Movement brushed against my shoed toe.
Excitement bubbled and ran down my spine.
I couldn't wait to kiss my new beau.

Finally, he moved even closer.
I could feel the heat from his face hovering over.
What was that scent from his breath?
Had my prince been snacking on red clover?

Then he snorted a grunt.
I started getting a little scared.
A flat, wet something sniffed my cheek;
Then a rough tongue caught a lock of my hair.

It wasn't my lips this thing kissed,
But the love fluttered my lashes.
I peered through my lids out of the corner of my eye
To find a swine the color of ashes.

What cruel joke was this?
Hasn't my debt been long ago paid?
Instead of a dashing, young prince to wake me.
With hog slobber, my cheek was buffeted.

I laid there and thought about it;
I'll tell you; I honestly did.
Could I live with my head held high,
Wed to a prickly furred pig?

I decided to close my eyes tight.
I'd let the beast and his snorting move on.
I didn't want to carry a sow's name.
I'd wait for a Ted, Chuck, Charming, or John.

Line Count: 56

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2178242