She should not be left alone.
starfish will form from her shoulders
Extremities become tentacles
each breath sprays an ink of green passion
her iris's become piranhas
her heart--a sea-like Venus flytrap
solitude will transform soul
and vertebrae is coral cuffed
her siren lips sync to fatale vocal chords
and you, poor sailor are brave enough to return
entranced, you can't help but look at what has become
of your love
Your remains
are gold skulls in sunken ships.