You are the word dearest to me,
Stained in petulance, rouged with misery
You are an aura, from which I should part.
Yet somehow you sank deep into my heart.
I don't how, I don't know when,
And I can't remember what I once had been.
But I know what Opal tasted, when she swallowed you down.
Sad, confused eyes, gentle frown.
That must have been my first reaction, to your touch,
Presently, your embrace is quite much,
For what was once a delicate caress,
Is now a suffocating compress.
"Please don't leave," sayeth the masochist,
"stay here with me," to the antagonist.
So my beloved melancholy, I'll never call adieu.
Yours Forever True.
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