Young Writers Project

Do you feel your head unspooling into the universe?

The ends of the string are fraying at the edges, 

irreparably stained with the stardust at the ends

 of the many worlds you stretch across.

Is it wrong 

to want to be a princess?

Is it naive or childish?

Because I want to be in a world where at 16 

I find my prince charming, 

where every year onwards is happily ever after

a symphony of saxophone and jazzy drums plays

for a crowd of men in wide collared shirts and women in boxy dresses

in their hands are drinks

martinis and manhattans 

with glistening ice cubes inside their glasses