The swirls in her pupils, flow with the past flashing before her eyes.
The flip in her hair, twirls with the smell of her perfume.
The curl in her lip, smirks with the humor of a young woman.
She holds the weight of her years,
Bearing the joys and the pains she’s endured.
Her dark scars, they show her fight,
The fight to prove herself, to pick herself up.
The fight that took her down.
Her rough hands, they show her work.
The work to fight back, to keep going forward.
The work that built her up.
It kidnapped more than a look,
More than a caress of her skin.
It abducted more than a smile,
More than a shake of her hand,
For her to make me fall in love.
I became the victim of the highest crime.
There is so much more than what the first look gives.
More than the perfume stuck to her loose shirt, more than the lipstick slightly smeared,
More than the deep chocolate brown in her piercing almond eyes.
She ran off with all that I was.
I had given so much love away,
But when I had finally decided to give my all,
It was her that I gave it to.
Falling in love with her was arduous.
She has her faults, her passion, and her selfishness.
It was everything about her that finally stole what was left.
The woman accused of theft.
All that I ever was and all that I ever would be.
It was me.
The thief of my own heart.