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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Sunday, 29 June 2014

Prom queen

You bent on knee,
gave your all to me.
I thought it fiction,
then it turned into;
a single cast sitcom.

The sand glass flipped-
after I made a fool of you-
as if your tooth was chipped..
I presumed false identity,
then my time came to pay indemnity.

Yet when I set my eyes upon you,
my blood crescendos-
to a sexual innuendo,
where my brain clocks out
and is thrown out the window.

Our game of thrones
was won by he; unknighted.
I, king took throne despite.

Yet besides me;
one I did not pick to be queen.

I chose you as queen,
despite the chosen one
dressed slightly obscene,

Albeit, you my monarch
now rule me over.

I could bend on both knees,
ayeh, I seek not to worship thee.
and the fact that you first bent knee,
makes me unworthy of your knighting;

To serve as king to your love.

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