She tastes rottingsweet while she
listens to Finnish love songs.
Masochistic baby is enraptured,
because not many people
understand her like he does.

‘Death can be beautiful’,
she murmurs, ‘and love can look
a hell of a lot like pain.’

She sharpies his words all over her jeans,
keeping him with her always
and draws heartagrams in
purpleredblueblack
on her wrists,
depending on her mood.

People stare and call her a
freak
sometimes, but she just smiles and
thinks of his glittergreen eyes.

She dreams of his
ever so succulent lips
parting in soft whispers
Occasionally at night,
And wakes up crying because something as
God-forsakenly beautiful
As he is couldn’t be real
His words melt like
Lust and depravity in her mouth
While she
drowns
in his decayed love songs.