Your perfume still lingers here, although you're long gone. Sometimes I wonder if I imagine the scent, dredged up from the ruins of my memories of you. Is this going to be the last ghost I have of you?
It's not easy becoming a stranger in your own life, and yet oh so easy. I look at my life as though I'm standing on the outside, in the cold, while the warmth mocks from the inside; from that place where you're still here. Maybe you can hear my heart thrashing out to the beat of an invisible drum every time I think of this.
Don't want you here anymore (can't let you go). The pain still wrestles with me, pinning me down. Count it out: one, two, three; Pain you win, why won't you leave me be?
You gripped me tightly, tore me too easily, released all the darkness, does that make you happy? Tell me why it was me. So many others but no, you came for me. Thank you, you held me till I bled, now the blood won't stop flowing. It won't stop until I sleep.
But you've made me an insomniac. There hasn't been a good night's rest since you left me. I wake and stare up at the empty ceiling, where I used to paint out the scenes of you and me with my eyes. Its whiteness mocks who we used to be. The false purity doesn't keep away the nightmares.
You had a grasp on my life so tight that I have still not pried my way out. Your talons grip my heart; oh god it hurts. You've gone but you've taken a huge chunk of me with you. How do I fill the hole? Its blackness grows, envelops me from within, there's no escape from it.
It's amazing how you managed to turn the tables. For someone who craved freedom above all else, I would give anything to be caged by you again. Irony's a knife and it stabs me over and over again.
I wish I didn't have to see you anymore (please don't disappear). I'll wish upon a lonely star; Star will you listen? Will you answer? I need your help, I cry to you in the dead of the night. Direct your light to the path I should take; should it be the one of reconciliation, or is it too late for that?
Lock us in a room together, until we sort it out. I'll bash at the door till my knuckles become black and blue and red, and I'll yell till I'm hoarse, but don't pay me any mind. Leave me there till I run out of breath. Then maybe I'll turn around and look you in the eye. Or maybe you'll kick me while I lie in a ball on the floor. Make the pain physical.
More physical than the depression in my chest, in that empty cavern you used to occupy. They don't lie when they say that emotional pain can become physically manifested; I feel that now that you're gone. How dare you leave me here alone?
Hey you. Fuck you (I miss you!).
I never forgave you (Please come back).
I hate you (I love you).