Crap. I can't seem to write good poetry right now, so I'll just recycle one I wrote when I was nineteen...

Dark Horse Fantasy

Acid wouldn't melt your mouth

Burn your lips so close to mine

Nightshade eyes poach mine to point

Knifeblade nails into my skin

Silken roses rip...

Beneath your touch

I am destroyed.

Perfection is trapped by innocence,

Grace by desperation

I need your dark horse fantasy

To justify my illusion.