Shaken hands with pain one too many times;
Admiration and her name appear not in one sentence.
Abuse of the Queen’s language it’d be deemed
Her paper heart,
broken over and over again
And poorly stitched,
She no longer cares about being okay.
Surviving, however torturous,
seems way easier.
Something about this son of Adam,
Something she can’t put a finger on,
Thrills her soul,
Makes her skin tingle
..and feel like it were just the right size
Is it the way his eyes bore into her soul?
..Like she was perfection
Or is it the way he holds her hand?
..Like some fragile porcelain
Having sworn off men,
She did hesitates
Mental calculations maketh a good woman, they say.
Man, is he fine!
Don’t his subjects and verbs agree!
He met her;
.. and she became flawless
Raised the bar;
.. and her heart bade her jump.