He was fire; she was ice.
He burned deep abyss chasms for her.
She was cool, indifferent, unattainable.
He wrote poetry to her in the early morning hours,
Words filled with lust and love, with an intense longing for her.
She acted like he didn’t exist,
Never speaking to him,
At the end of her day, she laughed at him
Like a harlot on heroin,
Like a femme fatale in and out of love.
In the end she drove a cold stake through his warm heart.
A message that said simply, Don’t fuckin’ mess with me.