He is not vile. He shoved her carelessly out of his space. Buried her under a pile of rubble. Some kind of punishment for bursting his bubble. Does she care. No, not her . Has desire to come to him. To scratch her way through soiled skin. So she can spit toxins his unjustly vile eyes. Just like the ones he spat in hers. Toxins like the ones he poisoned her with. Jesus, Her brother, her fellow man. She's glad to be free. Such an atrocity in fair English city. He held tight the rose of England. Nicked his finger on her thorns. It bled red love away. She wishes like his kisses that she were dead. He thinks he wants that too! But he knows his bleeding finger lingers. Hidden somewhere in his heart of memories so tender!