the parchment crinkles
is my clenched fist
but remains legible
infused with bliss

it has not been stained
by the stream of tears
that refuse to fall for you

my idealist
distracted my realist
for quite long enough
in your confounding presence

but she’s come back around
and this time, for good
immune to the
irrational
irreverent
i r r e s i s t a b l e  
words of persuasion
in your arsenal