Her wisdom carves my essence with stiletto-chiseled truth,
Amid the evanescence of a still-perplexing youth.
My muscle-bound demeanor is a surreptitious shield,
Discreetly placed between her and my inner battlefield;
But her resolve denies me all the comforts of defense,
And through my walls she fries me with a battered common sense.
Her wisdom cleaves my answers as we volley, tit-for-tat,
Like two ambitious dancers in a lead-or-follow spat.
Her hard-to-take conclusions are an iron-fisted punch,
And ego-shaped contusions mark my bruises by the bunch;
Yet still I kill my chances for a worthy love to heal
By cheating those romances with a heart that's like a wheel.
While burning hearts extinguish, I pursue another flame
With subtle body English, and a darkly-earned acclaim.
This wheel you spin in error is a love-benumbing ride,
A self-evolving terror that deceives a hopeful bride.
Her exposé destroyed it, but I salvaged every part,
So scatter to avoid it when I start my spinning heart.
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Author Notes
Iambic Heptameter, aka a Fourteener, with internal rhymes between the lines. I could actually break this into a 7/7 couplet with the first line iambic and the second trochaic, but chose the longer lines this time.
Thanks for reading!
David
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