You are peppermint:
Red hair, green eyes, white skin
peppered with polka dots.

And I, a pagan, passive and pathetic,
whose paramour is a ******* paladin
with a perfect face, parted pout and
perfumed persecution, perpetuated by
parliamentary parents who prevent you from prospering.

And I have to pitch a poker face
Pretend that your painted pair of lips pressed on my cheek
do not paralyze me, peach turned pink
over a precious peck.

So what is the purpose behind your pretense?
The pointless promiscuity, part time passion,
and I'm patient--
but god--
let me pamper you, pageant-curls princess,
forget the prestige in your pedigree,
let this penniless pauper into your palace.

You are picturesque, purely portrait-worthy,
But your painted claws perforated my paper skin,
and all I wanted was to make you purr.


*(but I don't have a *****)