Her letters smell like her hair,
Like fresh batch of bread.
He clutched the letter to his face,
While by fantasy his nose bled.

He loved her, fantasized about her.
She frustrated him by her pale stare.
Her nonchalant smile poisoned him,
Of such power she was aware.

Now she lay down his feet, dead,
Bloodied by his own hands, he fled.

Rhyme scheme: abca