A/N: For soo, who handles my random outbursts of, "OMG, YOU JUST GAVE ME INSPIRATION," with the utmost humbleness. (; And I honestly think this doesn't make sense. But what I was going for was that Quinn is afraid to give her heart away, yet Puck is insisting he'll take care of it... In a very metaphorical way. Whatever. I'm not good at poetry.

The words fall out of her mouth,
dripping down her tongue,
sliding down her fingertips,
as she tells me she cannot love.

She holds our time in her hands,
holds my heart in her teeth;
she throws the time into the wind,
and tells me not to breathe.

She holds her heart behind armor,
and guards it just as well as I;
she takes my hand and smiles and then
she teaches me how to fly.

"I don't love you," she says to me,
her eyes cold and her lips thin.
Ah, and to the sky we soar,
taking flight on a warm wind.

She holds me in the clouds of mist,
the endless rows of fog.
She kisses me up in the blue,
sets our running pace to a jog.

"I love you much," says I to her,
the queen and angel of my heart.
But she takes my heart and says so sweet
"Yet love is a poison dart."

Her love is lost and her heart is steel,
her eyes so worn and lost and stomped.
So I, I take her where the angels sing,
where the fairies hunt and romp.

"Love is simple," I insist so,
"We make sense, that we do.
"And if I ever lose my heart again,
"I'll find my way back to you."

The time is dripping down her hands,
like blood from and unseen wound.
But she smiles her smile and releases her heart.
"Perhaps we aren't quite doomed."

Ah, and to when the time is lost again,
and to how she gave her heart away.
To where I'll take it, I do not know,
yet with me her heart shall stay.