Why do I still crave
you when all you craved
for was what lies
between my legs?
How can I miss
you so when you gave
me up so easily?
I was just another,
one more mark on your
**** as I made another on
my wrist.
You were tender like the
skin that lies there,
lips sweet like July afternoons,
lustful like Parisian
nights.
You were a dream fallen to
a nightmare,
taking me in your
arms only to throw
me away, down into
a pit too
steep to climb
out of.
You're a gentle
daemon,
hands like
claws, drawing
blood from my neck,
trickling down my
breat like a
corpsed stream.