Prince Frogs

We all know the tale about the frog that turned into a prince, but do we know the one about the prince who became a frog?  I met a prince once. He was everything that any princess could want: clever, attractive, flattering, attentive. When you were with him, you thought that he was the one who turned the world, yours. Together, you laughed, loved and went about in a rosy atmosphere that belied taint. Nothing could enter that world but the joy of being together. You were blinded by the rich hues of the colourful aura of your prince. It seemed that life would go on endlessly with the him. But after some time, little drops of doubt began to form. Tiny hints that something you hoped was beautiful was merely dross and what you thought was honour was really just an effect placed there by the prince who was really a frog, who was always a frog but a very good shape-changer for his own reasons. He wanted to be a prince but something inside him, couldn't stop his true nature from emerging.  The cloud of happiness he created that you thought was yours, like all clouds, began to dissipate with time and the pond in which you and the prince circulated began to take on a hint of a smell that was more swamp-like. Small signs of erosion appeared as these realities crept in. The prince's crown slipped occasionally and his image appeared green around the edges at times. He was not as fine as you thought originally. When you chanced to rub the magic from your eyes and see the prince crownless you thought you glimpsed his true nature. In fact, at times, he didn't appear at all the same as the mask that you learned he put on daily. In that knowledge, he began to look strangely like something else. Warts arose one by one on his being until it was impossible to look at him and not recognise them as such. A kind of acrid slime appeared to be taking over his frame and it was an ugly greenish hue unlike the smooth and shining garb he once wore. His eyes became yellow and turned away when you looked into them. They were fixed on the horizon and not on you. They were no longer a trusting blue but more an oozing brownish amber grey. His hands, once warm and tender segued into cold claws reaching out eerily and his heart beat slowly and irregularly according to the temperature surrounding it. There were times when he disgusted you although you tried, out of loyalty, to disguise it. Often in a certain light, you saw what you wanted to run from, but forced yourself to remember the "good times" so that you could carry on. Finally, gathering all of your self-preservation elements together, you realized that a frog had replaced the prince and that not being a frog yourself, you could no longer associate comfortably with this one. You decided to look about the pond, however, because you were taught by the prince who was really a frog, how to tolerate a frog temporarily until you knew he was only in transition to becoming a prince.  There are so many frogs in the pond.