31-Day Poem: Day Twenty-Two

To a Time for Chaos to Arrange

The tips of her highlighted brown hair
slip past her petite, silk shoulders
as her glance sways to find me.
Her semi-loose outfit seems expensive,
but only because she is wearing it.
Her Cleopatra liner streaks thin
from her courageous ocean eyes
as the glimmering waves entrance
every fragment of my broken heart.

I never stood a chance.

She is a queen,
and resistance is futile.

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