Swift was [the killer]

Swift comes the night,

The silent descending

Of the crows to the ground.

Their kiss was dark and sad,

Like a flower's death.

Beyond the missed

Or cried, the lost or failed.

She kept the poisoned sting

She took the pain whithin,

Embraced the darkest clasp.

And shortly after dusk

She'll turn to face,

Her inner secret pockets

Full of hell,

The swollen empty sockets

Of her eyes.

And he will not suspect;

LOVE, was the killer.