Objective of My Heart

(This poem is in progress, but I wanted to go ahead and type it out before I lose my nerve.)

If I am your aim of conquest or

if my heart is truly your goal,

words alone will not tempt me,

only action will do.

I am the Haggard Woman,

only becoming beautiful at night.

I am not your wanton demure princess,

decorated and amused at jokes

that take no wit or talent to think up.

My soul craves knowledge,

a ravenous beast who feasts on Philosophy

stopping to adore Philology.

I am a bibliophile

following quotes and passages

figuring out the fountain of learning

and drinking until my belly is so close to

bursting that I roll to the side asleep,

dreaming of a life determining my career

based solely on my passion.

Do I bleed enough ink?

See this Haggard Woman’s deepest desire?

Confusion diminishes your demise,

and I become the destitute

as you focus on your score.

So often lofty lovers don’t think out

collateral damage, but I digress…

If conquest be your aim, I implore you deeper.

Beauty fades as age defiles youth,

and believe me, wisdom takes its toll

on a smile, on a mind, on a soul.

If you were Gawain, valiant and shining

what would you remember the lesson

or would you selfishly choose?

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