Intense Jealousy

Her hair is a raven,
Flying in the night,
Her lips are red wine,
All warmth and delight.

Her eyes are the sea,
Forever changing and strange,
Her skin is the clouds,
Seemingly endless in range.

Her hair, her lips,
Her eyes, her skin,
Are the golden prizes,
I wish to win.

For once she is dead,
With an apple in hand,
I, the queen,
Shall be fairest in the land. (MUAHAHAHAHAA!!!!!!)