The Viking Mistress

She was tall. She had it all. But she fell anyway. With notes out of key and words undone, sharp as a serpent's tongue.

And painful to the ears.

Unpleasant to the eyes, she made me want to cry.

Crystal tears, like little jewels. But I was too impoverished to afford the likes of them.

Instead I turned the channel, swam it like a narrow straight. No one is too poor to drown in the icy blue depths.

Icy blue, like her soul-less eyes.