Is it a sin to remember you five years too late?
To think of your soft lips and rough hands?
To wish that you would come back?

The more I think, the more I realize that I don't mind sinning. I will make a deal with the devil, and sacrifice all I've got. I will bathe in blood under the full moon, and lay in a circle of crystals. I will do anything and everything.

Just please,
come back.