I trace the lines of your needWith the haunt of my departure.
I try and see the way your eyes reject my light,
There is more to this than despair,
More to this than angry looks.
My scent calls for your removal—
A hounding thrill of a pleasure seldom devoured.
But when it rings true.
When it rings true,
There is nothing more sick in this world,
Than the way your eyes reflect my love….
And I can no longer see it.