Her Arms Are Open But She Won’t Be Broken’

Her little curvature face, every speckled, freckle-nosed, intricately kept piece of it

Pretty in pink and she feels all of these radiant things at pacened pace – he’s sitting right nearby her sensational everything, really

And shall shine his eyes upon her mind and turn that shadow from meagre-begging-to-be-eager back to reflected life

And their smirks catch frozen-by-time wildfire
All of this created by outlandishly subtle desires