How I Saw Her
Horned honey, she hissed and sputtered,
I've never met a manner so sweetened,
Caramel cutie, with kisses like visions and vistas,
Your ire I tire to listen,
with ides so cyst-like and impressed,
depressions in filler and sin.
Bebop beauty, my cowboy killer,
so beastly in a quaintness,
and mum in mutilation,
your disdain decorating a smile so ill.
A rose by any other name may call herself a sinner,
yet you decide, in deplorable debonair, a princess,
a paling faux pas, shameless, detached,
a stereotype in archetype,
a misinterpretation of the mind.
I warp you, from where I stay,
as I know not any other way.
In this I decide,
laughable astuteness aplenty,
that I am a peasant prince.
Reveling in blackish ivory and thrift,
scrambling for a truth I know is not there.
If it is, you caught me unaware,
keeping such secrets well,
as I lie silent in self destruct hell,
sipping at your coffee of choice,
what swill, you damn hipster,
see ya, southern bell,
my saccharine "she".