Hers is a savage kind of beauty.
Unnoticeable at first,
but as you linger, you see it:
Her eyes: alert and constantly alight with naked brutality,
(The eyes of a tigress,
a predator searching for prey.)

Her chin: raised high and indomitable,
(Reminding him of the queens of old,
who wielded power like it is their own:
—a missing limb, a wretched Siamese twin.)

Her mouth: clipped words laced with steel and honey,
(Saying, “I have been broken,
and I have rose and rose again.)

She had the makings of a queen,
and her palace is the gutter that she sleeps in.