She demanded doomed love ( too much poetry) and she found it; born with an ungainly sense of tragedy, she was a heat seeking missile perfectly tracking destruction.
He was a hugger and a hitter, a cheater and a beater, charming as a cobra to his prey who reveled in his cruelty and dragged her down
until the day she realized, you can't negotiate with evil, and tragedy isn't comedy and darkness is very dark
and slit her wrists and got away.
~mce
Why not another suicide poem? It seems to be an HP motif. This one is true. She was a beautiful, smart fool. He was a simple sociopath. She died. He walked. Not all endings are happy.