Picture perfect like a ballerina waving her arms;
deep gorges and rolling valleys, a morning smile,
but the armies of pain tried to make her forget

She lay awake watching for birds too blind to fly

She wanted to wear her slippers
But the hot embers of war remained
She wanted to twirl on extended toes
But the holes she penetrated had no end

He had thought himself as a fallen prince but she
could not accept cruelty as fateful romance; only
furtive, plaintive, pointed glances remained;
wanting to shatter glass without breaking form
over every new set of lustful eyes

She knew he had never kissed a storm

A black swan; she hated that she had no concern
or seriousness until after it happened and yet he
was also a black swan swimming eagerly towards
her sweet lips

She kissed him as if it was a mistake

He was consumed with fantasy; another knight
pursuing his prey; she knew he was already in love;
it was too easy to hurt a man; every naïve inference
he followed was in reality her rigid body saying no

Ste remembered who slayed her pride setting
in motion the earth’s plates beneath the ocean
that shattered salty skies with its ruthless
obsessive deluge crushing the future

Nothing would ever be perfect again; or was
it that she realized it never was; she knew
normalcy could never reveal her criminal side
or what she would do with a man who knew
how to touch her

She wanted to be wildly melodramatic, but
the elevator would not descend for those
who could not control themselves; the
reflection in her wine glass reminded her
how quickly it would sink into the ******
mess she had become but at least it would
know why being strafed, shot and left for
dead had become so important to her

All this and his lips were still moving, prying
open her mouth so he could pleasure himself;
such a man was not what she wanted but
it was time to let him be a man and she was
willing to donate herself to the cause; if only
he knew how to do it