reach out, and you may kiss me,
pulling back, quite a smite
my love has.
music boxes make ingenious bombs,
they'll never know as the room ignites,
a simple tune from the heart brings about demise.
we'll laugh and giggle,
and break apart.
quite a smite love doth have.
quoting bad poetry,
humming worse songs,
and we'll quoth the raven, 'nevermore'.