She had flowers
in her hands, in her hair
she witnessed love die, bloom
some called her the widow
from hell
quietly ripping hearts out
casting spells.
Her soul dark as coal
she left no doubt
marks of passion tattooed
between flames
made men scream
I want out.
She had flowers, evil grin
no one knew where she came from
but knew how to tell
where she’d been
a trail of heartbreak she left
until
late one night, tragedy struck
he drove his shiny red pick-up
over flowers in her hair
shouted loud into the wind
I win.
