Two Princes - poem

He
(Would hate to admit it but he)
danced with me, when he passed me by,
locking his gaze on mine-

He held my thoughts with his smile.
So freely I gave my hand to his
(He commented on how soft I felt).

I suppose he believed me to be also
internally soft.
For after pulling me towards
his affections and words, he tested my strength-

Slapped my hand away
(doubly hard than he pulled).

And that was the last step in the dance,
with the Prince who would transform
into a haunting, lingering
memory.

After elapsing time,
please allow me to introduce
the Second Prince.

His eyes deemed him both predator, prey
(it may sound cliché).

Déjà vu of the First-I met his stare,
then danced, and kissed-
I was the first to leave.

A yearning so deep, kindness in his heart,
praise with many turns of his phrases-

He's falling for who he thinks I am,
when I know the truthful being he's craving.

He wants an idea,
a Princess with the same qualities he dreams of,
virtues he thinks he sees.

Neither have realized, I'm not what-
or who
they've assumed.

Princes cannot fix a woman broken in two.

I am strong, not
invinceable.

I am no Princess, or Idea;
just a Woman, with a wish,
for not a misguided Prince,
but a (Willing)
man willing
to embrace the real
Me.