She is raving and unfaithful,
judged to die of insomnia
but
I love her.

She dances four tangos
with demons in her mind
but the fifth dance is mine tonight.

Instead of singing her love songs
I scream in agony
"Baby, your blood tastes like Tequila",
but she pours me a cold Jager
hissing.

She was never a person of tender touch,
rolled up her sleeves and showed her scars
and bruises
like a warrior.

She is ******* and restless,
a street cat fearing strangers
yet chasing cars
and
I love her.