by Joanne Marisa Leow
In this part of the story
I don't want to be the silly girl
swept off my feet
with your three-word protestations
whispered into my ears and onto my lips
or some foolish little creature
dazzled by the candles that you lit.
I want this to be so much more than fiction
much more than this I can express
but only through reality
beyond stars and moons and beaches,
words, songs or even poetry.