A/N: This was a school assignment for Valentine's Day, to write a sonnet in iambic pentameter. I wrote mine about our favorite detective/writer couple. Beckett's POV.
I'll tell you our kiss didn't mean a thing
And push away the words upon the page.
I'll watch you tease me with my brother's ring
Until my own heart is an empty cage.
We've tried, thrice each, to leave despite our deal.
My heart is shattered, bleeding on the ground,
While yours is pinned, in pain, beneath my heel.
I hate that I feel better when you're 'round.
You have your notebook and I have a gun
But I'm beginning to feel they're useless.
They're both against us, traitorous weapons.
I still have the card from your gift, a dress.
The elevator's 'bout to hit the top.
We're partners, equals, don't want that to stop.