watch for the apocalyptic sun

it reminds her of his golden mane

so like a lion-

just, strong, beautiful

...

his eyes like the sky blue before the storm

then assuming the semblance of a thunderstorm

in a flash

the scar on his lip lightning bolt

(king)

...

then she sees him, all the time

in the ocean

his eyes like the green

on a calm, sandy windblown-hair

day

...

piercing like the fresh green of sea-glass,

his eyes train on the gray ones

(not hers, but she wishes)

his hair the midnight black of a raven

(knight)

...

and when she looks in the mirror

what she sees-

weary black eyes, wishing for some time

to brave the nightmares

...

black hair, like a waterfall of midnight;

coffee brown skin

but reflected in those twin pools of black

lies a hollow emptiness

...

she's come so far, almost lost it all

what she struggles to keep

quietly

slipping past her fingers like ashes

(queen)