I am not a poet
and you are not a mystery.

You are a boy
with eyes too blue
to be compared to anything
but the sky

and I am just a
lonely girl
who wishes you would
stand still
long enough to see
the stars in her eyes.

You wanted the calm
but I am the storm;

banging at the
boarded windows
of your heart

begging

to be let in.

If this were a fairy tale
         you would be the Almost Prince
       and I would be the
      Tower;

  Valiantly, you would attempt
  to fight your way through
my maze of corridors
   and traps to
   rid me of the burden of
     my secrets,

    while I could only stand
    and watch, attempting not
     to crumble under the
    ferocity of your attack.

    Not because I wish to,
    but because I am just a Tower
    (and you are just a “Prince”)

and this is all
I know how to do.