How envious I am that the sun may kiss your porcelain skin and forever change how the world sees you.

There's no one to mourn for a life that love stole.

But when you kiss me there's a spark, and I can't remember I'm only food to be consumed like an apple and not loved like a woman.

It's better to have loved and lost than never love at all - I doubt that sorry statement every time I fall.

But, in the end, a kiss is just a kiss; I have no time for love, or seasoned lips.

So I'll be your queen if you'll be my king,My knight to defend my claimed heart.I need no crown, just your last name and a ringAnd the promise you'll never depart.

Some men call her cyanideFor she'll cause and take your pain.To others she's the devilOr the quest for true love's bane,And, to those less lucky,She's called their ball and chain.

To her you're just a play thing; she'll make you out to be a king, then she'll set fire to your throne.