On the base of a flower vase,
that's where you left her last blood trace:
A reminder of your fresh kill;
your Valentine's day gruesome chill.
Caked blood now covers the deep wound,
her flesh still looks fresh on the ground.
But her spirit roams far away,
graveyards too small for her to stay.
Her lips still wear your last cold kiss.
Her warm hugs, you'll forever miss.
Her soft hands, you can't again grab;
a gone soul, you can't again stab.
From cemeteries, vengeance screams;
her vengeful spirit haunts your dreams.
Her ghost won't rest till your soul flees
and the breezes from your nose freeze.