I see her through jaded lattice.
Obscured by the void,
I yearn for slow dances in her garden.
I can almost taste the elegance of this lioness,
for it resonates through the entirety of that little toy town.
And while I see paper bits of strife falling from the edges of her mouth,
I am derailed by the utter artistry,
entranced but the subtle harmony,
compelled by this other part of me
that still seeks fairy-tales
to run off with her.
I bet she could fit me in her coat pocket.
I bet her skin is made of satin.
I bet her lips feel like summer.
Won't you find me one august sunset,
slay me with your smiles,
encompass me with that radiance?
I implore thee,
for I will wait long enough
to lace my fingers with yours
through the lattice holes.
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