Warrior Princess

A poem about the quintessential Beauty and Brawn

Here she stands, taller than the tales that precede her, her reputation riddled with legendary lore, the carpet that she treads projects a radiant red, be it blood or beauty, it matters not which,

 

Her shoulders, lacquered with lotion, were so lax; amazing, considering she balances the world upon them,

Her skin, so soft, a stunning revelation as thick as it comes across, the smoothest of all armor, battling the woebegone warriors that threaten well being,

 

Fierce as they come, and ever determined, sweat that merely glistens upon her body, sparkles of success exude through pores of purpose, portals of power defined by her will, all the while her flawless feathers spreading cheer and summoning sprightly spirit, her war paint a portrait of serenity,

 

Never shying away from skirmishes, she takes them head on, her sprint a slow motion spectacle, a slow and steady display leaving spectators speechless, and I, a collective crowd of one, should never be surprised by her consistency, constantly conquering all within her atmosphere,

 

Yet here I stand, jawline falling towards the floor; my smile widens with my eyes, a friendly clash of facial features, dominated by the optic option, for they are always able to occupy brain street by watching her, but if lips could con her to submit the smallest smooch, they could claim the coronet once and for all,

 

A gladiator dressed in the garb of goddesses, her enigma burning bright like a beacon of beauty, a rough and tumble, rogue princess, robust yet regal, majestic and mighty in the same breadth; wishing I wielded a wicked persona, to hold her attention hostage, so that she may conquer my intentions, and me along with them,

 

Common sense commuting in rush hour traffic, intelligence intermittently weaving through my brain waves, my aptitude arrested by her attractiveness, causing temporary amnesia, operating in oblivion, forgetting for the briefest of moments that she is mine; a muse infused with pockets of perfection, bits of abstract handcuffed to wholesome,

 

This notion continually escapes me; I never stop striving for her affection, never rest upon my laurels for her love; never satiate my hunger, laced with lust, for the complete combination of crown and courage that defines her…

 

…And I never will…

 

 

 

The End

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