I once learnt of a girl who held stars in her hands
Her neck scarred and left with purple indents
She found him working at a, candy caravan
With his—“Icy glare and chiding gnarled grin”
He drew her in, slipping a few more confections
in her paper bag, his love an infection.
Their hands intertwined and “She’s always mine”
Their foreheads met in a forest of lies
She smiled as his fingertips felt her soft satin throat
He pulled back and lips brushed her ear
A swift blow she heard as death
  drew
near…
Her heart peppermint, pungent dead wafers
Down by the river, forgot she’s a liver:
Candy stars scattered in the sky.

I love your pink cat plushie
I love you!
Pretty, cute, feather-stepped
A fine gentleman, you are!