She loves to haunt me with what used to be us.

She loves to lie on the bed naked, deep within the confined walls
of my memories.

She loves to make me remember her just when I’m about to forget her.

She loves to see me crept in the corner of the room unable to move on.

She loves to cradle me when I am at my most vulnerable.

She loves to drink the tears I’ve cried over the next ten years.

She loved me, and yet I still love her.

She confines me.