Behold, arrangements of petaled flowers in her hair
Cold stare, her eyes snipe laser star beams through the hearts of her victims
Survivors, speak what you must about her thrust
It’s the coldest winter this summer without her.
Cock your head to the side and let her whisper your sins
Slithering on baited skin
Waiting for her breath to penetrate your eager heart
Startled by her might, though she may terrify you.
It’s not over for you and her —
There is truth behind the curse she stole from you
Agonizingly pierced by nerve pinches up and down your arms
Heart attack, she’s nothing more than gone.