Her heart
Yearns for a gentle touch that leads to
Lips pressed to lips like bees bumping against flowers
Such a great longing

Her body
Allows her feet to pace anxiously
And her eyes to shine in want of passionate exchanges
As her hands drum to the sound of the monotony in her entire being

Her mind
Full of great intellect
Has pushed back many a sarcastic remark
Weary of the dull world surrounding her

Her soul
The only thing that realizes her lack of originality
Longs to astonish all with its brilliance of cunning and goodness
Yet is still unable to let go of past disappointments