She sat on her back, her hips held straight,
Watching him getting closer and closer.
He was startled — felt it weird, but just fine;
Can't say if he was wrong or out of line.
"Hi," she waved at him with a flying kiss,
Still holding onto the skull in her right.
He could say a lot — he didn't wanna,
For it was late, and they'd run out of light.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" her voice breaking.
"Maybe not," he said, his breath still shaking.
"You sure don't seem normal at the core."
"Huh!" she grinned, dropping to the floor.
"So what do I look like?" she took a glance —
Had it not been a grave of deadly romance.
She took a few steps; he said it once more,
"You're oddly beautiful — a gothic folklore."