If he will allow me to speak cliché,
Then this is just as people say,
You never know what something's worth until it's gone!
I had most of the idea, for sure, as I'd plentifully fawn.
We're not just playing with desire,
For this is veritable, burning fire.
Embers, neck to neck, in hug.
And never felt since by me.
The first touch. The first date.
After that, something was missing for him.
I sensed it so dim,
That the flame was gone from his touch;
Chakras closed, aura unrainbowed,
On more than a whim.
I reach, I stretch, for something to blame,
I preach, I clutch, pulling back my bow to aim,
At something more than the lines and blemishes of my face,
And the superficial mask, that purple upon me, which scared him away!
I'm not Cupid. This arrow means business.
It comes from a heart most cracked and petrified,
As of wood left in a fire now dying...
Now is when my military metaphor is most apt, by his goals,
For I see hot metal, red from the coals, my attention rapt,
With that which to brand my suspicion,
Spelled with searing precision!
To see a serious war and be terrified of it.
After all, he's a fresh recruit being rushed to the frontlines.
David and Goliath.
Fear of commitment!
Theories from the River Jordan...
And David still fancies himself a soldier.
He'd rather fight lesser wars,
Other wars, with other principalities!
And that, I am afraid, is entirely to my advantage.
I assure him that, unless he is exceedingly lucky,
He will find no higher upkeep for his sling and sword,
No greater spoils, nor accommodations!
It will prove to be a waste of precious time.
Ragnarok is at hand, and a valkyrie will descend.
I'll light that sacred fire again,
For embers still remain deep within the broken cracks of my heart.
It would take a phoenix to lay such an egg as that.
Enjoy the bonfire.