(Requested by @JaneSuddenlySeymour)
(Catherine Parr x Jane Seymour)
(Note of warning, I can't do poetry to save my life)
Cathy's POV:
She's beautiful as somebody could ever,
And she's funny, talented and clever.
I wish she'd be mine,
She's really divine.
And her name is-
I dropped the pen to the ground with a clatter, creasing my face up in focus. My eyes hovered over my rushed poem as I repeated the rhymes over in my head, trying to figure out what was wrong. I had bent down to retrieve my pen, releasing out the long breath I had been holding in. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Jane Seymour.
I had ripped the flimsy poem into tiny pieces and scattered them into the air, watching the pieces of paper flutter gracefully down to the ground. The way the papers moved reminded me of Seymour though, about how she walked around the house elegantly and gracefully, with her head held high with confidence, and how her delicate and gentle smile managed to light up your insides, filling you with joy and happiness.
My heart ached for Seymour to a point where there wasn't a second in a day that I wouldn't think about her. My writing slowly started to revolve around her, and I would get up early to make her coffee, just to hear her thank me everyday. She was my life, and I'd do anything for her.
I was staring at where the ripped pieces of paper lay, unable to get Jane out of my mind, when I had felt a small and gentle tap on my shoulder. Seymour.
'Cathy, what's up?' Jane asked, gazing up at me with a concerned facial expression. 'Do you need anything? And why are you standing in the middle of your room like that?'
I stared up at her, my eyes photographing every feature there was and I made a mental note to write about how cute her cheekbones looked later on.
'Oh, I was just trying to get inspiration for.....' I broke off, looking desperately around my room for help, 'A project! I was studying the carpet for a story!'
'It is some nice looking carpet though.' Jane agreed, placing an arm on my shoulder. 'Why are there ripped pieces of paper scattered all over your room?'
'I....I....it was a shredding accident .' I replied hastily back, not taking my eyes off Seymour's face. She looked up to meet my eyes, a huge beaming grin was painted across her face. I grinned back, noticing a small red flush creep up her cheeks, making her look cuter than before.
'I like the pieces of paper, it makes my room look... y'know... more artistic.' I responded, grabbing one of her hands. She didn't pull away, much to my relief, and she squeezed it back.
'I don't know much about being artistic or anything.' She whispered, gazing down at my desk. I dropped one of her hands and I reached for her chin, lifting it up.
'You are an artistic topic to write about.' I responded lovingly, before slamming a hand over my mouth. 'Ummm I meant, to like write about in my diary... Oh wait no. I meant just a nice topic in general. Wait not like that but-'
'I understand.' She replied, her eyes sparkling with humour and pity. 'I'll leave you be now?' And then she walked out of my room, and I could only just feel my heart fluttering from exhilaration. She had touched my hand. She had TOUCHED MY HAND.
I bent down to retrieve the bits of paper, grinning all over.
