Don't Eat The Whales and Remember to Tip your Waitresses

Bored at work, so here's some lame poetry:

True emotions amble in fear of rejection, as her thoughts become condescending.
Her logic overpowers her muffled heart, yet the blades in her eyes spill her blood.
Meditating with the mind and not with the soul, her true self still begins to emerge.
Comprehension dissipates as her heart materializes in a miraculous resurrection.

Large diamonds fall from her eyes reflecting a thousand pieces of her face;
The challenge of gazing upon her lingering reflection causes her to wince in pain.
Kissing her forehead, you lean in unaware of the knife already dug through her chest,
Your advancement pushes it deeper and with "I love you," you provide the final twist.