The ghost of your voice, a whiskey-soaked whisper,
haunts the empty spaces between my ribs.
Your lingering presence aches like a ****** bruise.
Even in a crowded room,
your shadow dances on the periphery of my vision.
My heart, a stubborn compass,
always points towards you,
a magnetic north that leads me astray.
I build walls of indifference,
plant gardens of new affections,
but the roots of our entanglement
run deeper than any cultivated soil.
You're invasive,
Killing the light, and any hope of freedom
From your smile.
You are the siren song,
the shipwreck I yearn to return to.
The familiar ache of your absence
feels more comforting than the tentative warmth of new beginnings.
I have thought it through.
And the conclusion is a bitter surrender.
This is my fate,
to orbit your gravity,
a satellite forever lost in your orbit.
You are a toxic cycle I surrender myself to.
Unwillingness has never felt so relieving.