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.