I am grieving for a ghost without a grave,
His self is still surviving but his soul I could not save.
My medicine is the memories in my mind,
They weigh me down with worries, what ifs and whys.

Awhile after he left I hadn’t the need to fall nervous of the night,
Before it’s coldness cruelly cut my courage like a knife.
Gentle gravity, I grasped hold for anything he gave,
But he lacked the love, leaving me only with his lusting lave.

Yes, I know I should’ve walked into a colour without a shade,
This abuse approached me like abstract art arrayed.
Obviously these stars in the night will always outlive me and wring me out to die,
But I’m not going to let them get to me, no not this time.