She melted the sun,
He took away the moon.
She plucked the stars from the sky,
He organized them into neat piles.
She painted the roses white,
He ran them over with his truck.
She wrote poetry on her pillowcase,
He always said the leaves felt the same.
She whistled during church,
He hummed along with the forest.
She held a tangerine in her hands,
He crushed the fruit under his foot.
She wept silent tears after noon,
He wrecked his flower garden.
She tasted darkness on his tongue,
He laughed as if nothing was wrong.