A live figure

She posed abreast of him
and looked into his eyes
fishing for a pinch of love
and hope that no one dispensed.
She was a poet
always fluttering to catch her cognition
and he was her anchor
pulling her down
from the belletristic castle.
He came close to her
and kissed her on the forehead
and he vowed to love nobody else
he vowed to be a far cry from the other boys
who gashed her wandering heart,
all this was in her head.
She lulled her paws
and the pencil slumped
she was unchaining her words
disguising herself
and causing her soul harm.
The paper was drenched (in tears)
and her poetry ruined
ink flooding her head’s deepest corner
he wordlessly came
and with unclad hands
he touched her soul.
He drank her tears.
‘Oh’, she sighed
occupied by his lure.