No, stunning stick insect and media glamour
bisected your path leaving you devoid of any
natural damsel demeanour of a cat up a tree.
And I am no barrel-chested brass-buttoned
baritone bartender of a fire engine to fix you.
No, you’re not a pretty girl to scale ladders for,
to reach high peaks and towers and pull on your
flowing golden-river of elongated folic strands.
And I’m no dashing thief dashing through forests
to steal your heart, and sell it in pieces to a smith.
No, you’re not a pretty girl to save from a dragon
since your beauty lies in a wholeness encased
in a beating heart no lithe lizard can scorch out.
My sword, my ladder, my engine lie redundant
because you have rescued me from macho manure.
Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15
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