Taylor Swift

swift locks of golden hair belonging to—

a girl once invisible that now has a place in this world,

guitar stained with teardrops,

that is worn out by playing her song.

golden fireworks blazing from the sky—

that girl is now fearless,

her love stories celebrated throughout the world,

and they love her forever and always.

different shades of purple sparks fly—

that girl has spoke now,

though she still goes back to December all the time,

she shapes the stories of us.

loving was red, blue, gray—

sad, beautiful, and tragic,

she’s 22 and a lucky one,

she remembers it all too well.

a sense of style emerges from her—

nothing in our wildest dreams can compare,

this love is good, bad, alive, and dead,

we are lost in wonderland.

are you ready for it—

a black snake in the shade coils around,

and it’s delicate,

a silky, black getaway car.

through cruel summers and lovers—

and deaths by a thousand cuts,

she promises that you’ll never find another like her,

through paper rings and heartbreak princes.

she’s the one—

hidden in the shady, woodsy forest

telling folks of betty and her cardigan,

will you meet her in the garden?

life is a willow—

twisted in ivy,

you signed your name marjorie,

so tolerate it.

meet her at midnight—

in a smooth lavender haze,

but it was maroon,

like a never ending labyrinth.

she’s in the tortured poets department,

the love of her life for only a fortnight,

though she can fix him,

she tells daddy that she loves him.