A trill of notes, a portal to the past.
I become a messy girl, far from home
with a loveless lover deep inside me.
Moans, pleasureless and satisfying,
remind me of my worth-- and it is
quite beyond this.
You do not deserve my tender touch,
the lilting of my eyes and graceful kisses.
They are not empty, no.
They are full of a sorrowful absence.
I do not really exist.
You're ******* a ghost.