Paper a la Mode

yours~
you think I'm not yours
and that I can't feel you breathing down the back of my neck
wishing
for one more taste
one more bite of my soul
one more smell of my hair.
one
more
you think I don't see you pushing your sickening flesh into some one else
wishing it was me
hoping it will fill the void
the deep hollow crevice I delivered when I died
when I succumbed to the distortion
the lies
the truth
I know you are there
I hear you in every step and word and breath and sigh
every day
every moment
I'm yours