Born a true romantic, Shakespearean and harps,
perfume scented roses, and red strawberry hearts.
Tales of star crossed lovers, with names she barely knew,
hid beneath her childhood, and festered as she grew.

Still a child in essence, but innocent no more,
bred with lust and passion, and fiery to the core.
Felt the lives inside her and giggled at the sin,
wallowed in sheer misery, when guilted from within.

Broken upon nightmares, torn from fairly tales,
risen from dark ashes, and as the memory fails,
I let my eyes reopen, as salty tears descend,
gently plucking harp strings, to sing my heart amend.

A poetic dreamer, and as a woman loved,
I’ve tasted hidden horrors, and pains you may know of.
But no amount of sorrow, shall make my sonnets flee,
I’ll await my sweet prince, and breathe through fantasy.

authors note: corniness to the max!
 
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