I hate the way you seem to sit inside my every thought.
Dripping from my poetry and making me distraught.
Your presence seems to haunt me and fill my heart with grief.
And even when you're gone, I still can't find relief.
Your words are like a poison, I drink until I'm numb.
And to your addictive voice, again I shall succumb.
You're merciless and painful, but wear a soft disguise
You broke my bleeding heart in the time of my demise.
I miss your open arms, to which I used to run.
I was all set to die, so you handed me the gun.