She once loved a poet
A couple lifetimes ago,
In a time where the rhyme
Kept her in the flow.

And to the enchanting poet,
The rose didn't smell as sweet
As his first glances at her;
The seraphs couldn't compete.

He was the poem written on her heart,
The love only found in dreams.
She was bound and determined to have him
By any ways and means.

As fate would have it, they had each other.
Their love intensified by his magic,
His use of word and rhyme,
Slowly turned from romantic to tragic.

Because there is nothing magical about love,
It's really a matter of the heart.
Just because you can write on love
It doesn't mean that's who you are.