in a cabin with you

my god

her elegance,

like olden days
curled hair

and apron strings
my gods,

the wars she must

cause not knowing it

if i were king
Id have his head

and make her mine

force her to take

my name

and

wear my paper

crown

if i were not

this gentle soul
cursed

so

full with words
and vulgar poetry

with

this

mouth

both to hurt
and kiss you with