She is his You can see it just from a glance It can't be chance that he sits so rigid Their PDA almost frigid in it's clockwork execution we kiss now, here, then, when we should Their public nature behind a hood of do's and don'ts, should, could so would, but never must never need. I don't feel she's ever breathed just for you, she feels too insular. Too
Egocentric
His posture is pride, A look; a challenge A touch: assurance This one is mine Look, don't touch Envy me But find your own In his arms his serpent glows and coils around his throat dote Their words are whispers of solidarity A secret society who's key they ate, their touches tempt fate.
You're going to hurt him
But for now she coils, and boils his blood and throws his rudder out of control. And he sits, a deadbolted frame, clinging to a paper Mona Lisa which could flap away or, at any moment, bore and stray
But for now, they're proud and loud with public love.