She was madness filled in tinted bottles

Fragrance locked in a bracelet

Petals captured between the pages of tragedy 

A lost song entangled upon his papercut fingers

A taste of sweet that never touched his lips

She was the shatter of silent raindrops 

A siren call of eclipsing moons

Wrinkles on a bed still dreaming

Dripping ink from a parched notebook

She was his dream, dressed as her own nightmare