Thorny as a Briar Rose

In her carelessness, captivating,
in her pride, irresistible.
She flung herself in haughty listlessness,
as she was too oft wont to do,
when succumbing to the tempest
of the tantalizing night.

There was something of wry consciousness
in her eyes of ice.
A power of vision to overpass limits.
A voice to stir everyone’s antipathy.
Full of struggle, blackness burning,
and as thorny as a briar rose.

With a remarkable knack for narrative,
she purchased indemnity with every thought.
Though she found it impossible
to be too conventional,
with her naughty needles of repartee,
still she smiled a sigh
of sassy satisfaction.