The Cold March

A shameful stagnation,
for someone so Love focused
to be entangled
with the angst and self-deprication
of insecurity and youth.

A selfish decision
became a selfless act,
and keeps it so.
Keeps it heavy.

A small and priceless smile
for whom he hasn't learned to disrespect
outweighs the unapproving
shaking heads.

And besides
no one made her Queen,
and it's not her place to pass judgement
on what or who is worthy.

So she moves,
but not on.
She provides what she is able
and fuels her soul
with caffiene and paper,
and under cloud dreams.