My Rubber Combat Girl (revised)

She had offered a ring, pressed close in passion’s heat against the birthmark beneath my temple known only to us. The proposal had been a long time coming; if it was hasty, I reasoned, so be it.  Suggesting a honeymoon near her home in a cozy landfill where birds had grown quiet with rain and oil, I hesitated. "The place where time sleeps," she said dangling a mistletoe of white tree shrubs over my head, ringing silver powder and bursting caches of hot moonlight. Drawing closer, we embraced: a body as firm, supple steel. I squeezed her hand, tender as gripped rubber.  Heavy enamel fell from that cold mouth, clumsy lead notes of my only love’s symphony.  Pulling her tongue back, the chambers of my heart fired.  A clicking wind chilled my nape as six black eyes fell into place.