She

Her heart was a crystal glass.

A full one every now and then,

An empty one after another round,

After another man

As fragile as a leaf of a fern,

A broken one at the slightest wrong turn.

Seller tape and glue

Would put the pieces back together,

But some breaches seemed unfixable,

She needed something better.

And so she bought a slim jim glass,

Which stayed intact for long.

The burden was now other:

She needed something strong.

Water wouldn't slake her thirst,

Sweetness would only make it worse.

She needed wildness, bitterness

She was becoming dark,

She was becoming fearless.

She needed flames

Burning down her throat.

She needed wild passion

No warnings, no sugar coat.

Such desire drove her places

She had never been before,

Mad strangers, mad people,

Once again and once more.

In every glance, every breath,

Nevertheless, the flames were there:

On the hot, dangerous nights,

The moon witnessing every affair.

Such desire drove her places

She had never come across,

Mad strangers, mad people

It drove her crazy, she got lost.

'Cause who craves fire

Somehow will get burnt.

Now she was nothing but ashes

Nothing but a dead fern.