The Ending Story of Kurt and His Marilyn

There's a smudge of make-up on my bathroom sink.
It formed oddly.
The shape of a heart that won't wash away.
It reminds me of you.

I was your Marilyn and you were my Kurt.
You found me beautiful in my old hats and raccoon eyes.
I found you entrancing in your ratted coats and floppish hair.
I loved the way your music echoed my heart beats.

My own personal Kurt Cobain staring out my kitchen window.
A guitar and nicotine addiction to match.
Torn band shirts and dirty socks.
A savior in knock-off Ray Bans.

Late night phone calls and afternoon cuddlefests.
You lit up my world.
But Kurt had to die and so did Marilyn.
We're still alive, though.

All we are now is a street rat and a little girl.
You opened my eyes to a world I never thought possible.
The dream had to end. Love for us was not possible.
After all, the hero never gets the girl in the end.