Yeah...clearly this is all kinds of suck.
Silly, silly girl.

Poetry is about word choice and rhythm. About twisting images and tweaking phrases and this is brilliant...

murderous wrists.
Broken, they'd scent the air like cinnamon sticks.
and
Life-Savers red cherry kisses.
Fucked, they blossom and she pops, like waiting champagne fizz.


And then those last two lines.

Pow!