I knew I was no
match for her,
the very first time
I saw her beauty.
Her delicate fingers
were shredding
daisy heads in a
game she always won.
Like a yellowed
spring snow, her
feet were covered
in discarded petals….
Her wicked innocense
gazed upon me and
her lips formed an
echo of raw wantonness.
She murmured in
purest sin her cheat
“He loves me…
He loves me lots.”
I could never win.
