weave syntax with syntax
on the shell of her thighs
carved with lies
from the guys
who've in time learned to wry
up her mind
in the lines of your eyes
she dies

as you try
to imply
with the rye
and the rhymes
and the times

that you'll die
die alone with her every night
and despite
that no one can love her demise

she flies to her dreams every night
and she's gone