So meant to be.

But still misplaced.

Your the misplaced sort.

That's why I love you best.

Why he held your hand.

All leather and intellect.

All mystery and blue eyes.

All enchanting and forever superior

to anything you could deserve.

You deserve a Saviour.

He washed your feet clean...

He was drugged

He knew what he was doing

When he strayed

Funny how trust solidifys at the most inappropiate times.

Too inferior to validate anything,

like babes in a wood.

He is still too pretty,

And it is still meant to be.

You could have been too happy.

It's less than you deserve.