Around your finger

She is royalty;
a later incarnation
of a sexual ancestry.

She is butterscotch,
this milky girl

so smooth, they all swoon

and I stand with her,
a maroon striped tank top
underneath a red shirt,
covered by a brown sweater,
black hair pulled center stage,
and her walnut-sized eyes,
cigarette hovering on her lips.

Royalty subservient,
Armenian Princess -
I've learned to laugh when she laughs.
Listen to her tangled tales

of love, worn, and sworn.

She stands so solidly apart from the word -

'I'm wrapped around his finger' she says
defeated, cocks her head to the side, arms
fold protectively over her breasts

she takes the shape of sorrow.