Am I King?

a heavy jacket that i didn't want,

a frame that once was girlish now is not.

donned with a colour that i do not like,

become a person that I recognise.

purple does not suit me but it suits him,

the royal blood, the cut, the shape, the trim,

the jacket hangs like nothing ever did.

a wider stride, a cheekier grin

and broader shoulders, a smile like sin.

white shirt, black boots, gold crown, silver chain

and the goddamn purple jacket I disdain.

she looked in but he looks back,

the purple jacket that did all that

and they stand proud and royal and kingly

"Am I King?" He asks.

She doesn't reply.