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.