there was something in the way

her hair flew behind her,

he couldn't tell if it was the wind

or her anger.

her speed depended on the

imaginary knives she heard in his

pleading voice,

and she wondered if she would

last the night.

her dreams tended to be bloody,

but she always managed

to avoid murder

by planting kisses on the

slayer's harsh lips.

she screamed in the hollowness

of his eyes,

and her words rang down the

asphalt like dying snakes.