Intricate stories of lustful love
are winding their spindly fingers...

She pulls out the eraser
and the paper...

Red hair and a black bow.
Slender fingers and a tarnished ring...

It's left, my tears.
It's red, my little paper heart...

It was dusk and we stole our kisses from the moths
that were chasing the last of daylight...

Insomnia and fear,
pain and lust...

She draws the knife
across her arms...

The bass beats pump through the air,
sending hearts a little higher...

She hides.
She cowers...

She has a star
imprinted on her forehead...

Rock star hair,
swooping cat eyes...

He's my best friend,
but he seems...