In Which I Do Not Love Mr. Sherlock Holmes

No,
You can never love Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
You can never love his eloquent deductive,
nor
his random fiddle
no matter how stunning the harmony is.

For his beauty is merely meant
to be relished
For your only windows
are those scented papers
Filled
with aimless mysterious footprints
or sometimes, right, few drops of blood
Can only peek
through the old pages
Make sure
the suspect doesn't notice you
because darling, he
is about to pull the trigger.

How wondrous
this feeling can be.
Before you,
I was just a beginner
Sir,
My eyes were wide opened when I stood
on my tiptoe
My mind freezes upon the tingling suspense I did not anticipate

So when you told me that you love me,
I knew I will have to make a room for myself
For your 'Mind Palace' is an exquisite place to be looked at
but certainly not to be lived in
I had to make sure that my trembling body are worthwhile enough to stay
or else, to be erased.

And when you pulled me deeper in your arms
Darling, I knew
right at that moment,
instead of going home,
I would have to drag my boat to sail far enough
to live;
Or else,
to be drowned.