the warrior in her heart
April 12, 2013 § 17 Comments
like an aggresive little girl for a perfect puppy
—a baby girl for her Daddy
—a puppet for the hand
that re-enacts it’s every story.
It was the same passion in which she fell,
that she would forget.
It was the cayenne in this girl
—the Kona in her coffee
—the cinnamon in her lips
—the warrior in her [lace-stitched] heart.