Dear Vicky,

Shall I compare thee to the Autumn's breeze Or to the Summer's gourds where they grow green Before the spook day's jack-o-lanterns scream their jagged tooth grins into the dark October night? Shall I compare thee to the ice tray left unfilled, Wanting liquid for our drinks to chill? Perhaps I shall draw a simile Of the sad setting sun you left with me. Former lover, you are the Krampus' heavy sack That sits in wait for the coal so black. You are the roadkill waiting to decay With every lie your venomous lips will lay. And if I were to call you a deep abyss, It would be a simple fact to miss. You are the pit from which Hell's fiends are spawned, And life without you has been a tranquil dawn.