My Princess

She is my Princess.
Delicate as the tiny lace
daffodils embroidered on her
silky night gown.
The way that her
ice blue eyes pierce
through my soul
makes me shiver with delight.
Such a treat to come
home from work
and hold her porcelain,
pasty-white hands
while she stares into
the depths of my cavern.
She never asks for much.
The stitches in her lips never let her.
Once,
I removed them,
and her antiqued beauty
seeped down her chin.
so I never dared remove them again.
She prefers her jaw glued shut
but it turns me off.
I much prefer her jaws stuffed
with bits of me.

She is my Princess,
silent and still
like brittle blades of grass
baked in the summer sun.
Once, I tried to dance
with her,
but when her stiff legs hit the floor,
they disconnected
from her boney knees
and it pleased me none.
Now she stays in the
deep freeze.
My frozen, crystalline
Princess.

**Inspired by the Wicked Writing Prompt:  Zombie Love.**