Poem: Toxic Love
Was she falling in love?
Luscious poison possessing her
Miss raven; and he being reminiscent of a dove
How young they were
Him mourning for her love
Only she was a blur — and a callous connoisseur
She was indicative of atrocity
Her poor rusting heart and conscience
Only she was not sorry —
oh, she wasn’t
It was a game, where in the end she lost.
He murdered her.
And now she can’t be sorry anymore because she is dead.