V: Her Royal Highness

Elizabeth sits there and scorns
The hearts of those who want her
Her feet up off the wooden seat
Legs apart teasing and downright rude
A fidgety young girl of twenty three
I told her of his fancy
And she sneered
Asking was he scared
Could he not say it to her face
Elizabeth said it as a dig at me
Because I'm the one she wanted
And of course she'd misconstrued
My reluctance for that
Same shy fear
She credited to him
The knees danced back to and fro
Drawing my eyes to her vagina
But I really didn't want to know
After her highness and haughty
Dismissal of my friend
Unable to ask
He'd feared one more rejection
We sat there very little was said
Both skirting and averting her desires
She had criticised him for not doing
Something that she couldn't
Which was weird
Unsatisfied she got up to leave
With a frustrated but dismissive air
I could have helped her down but no
I thought get off the pedestal yourself
It wasn't I who put you there