I know you are still there,
and you'll always be there,
waiting for when I let you come back.
I know you are still waiting,
and you'll always be waiting,
for the day when I crawl back to you.

Our relationship ended at last
and I felt more power than
you would've ever allowed.

But it'll never really be over,
because I know you'll always be there.
You've always been there.

And sometimes, when the music is right,
or the day is not so good,
or there is something to remind me of you,
and the way I felt when you held me close,
I sneak in a flirt or two.

You're the lover I've always had
but never wanted.
You're the shadow that never leaves,
the absence of light that feeds
when I lay in the dark.

I hate you about as much as I love you;
that's how much I despise you.
Oh, yes, I loathe you.

Can I maybe make love to you in my dreams tonight?
That way I can enjoy having you again
but I can blame my dreams and shrug it off
as if it never happened.

May I have another one-night stand with you?
You're the most addicting lover;
the worst kind.
I don't want anything long-term,
but maybe something short wouldn't be too terribleā€¦

Your claws sinking into my skin
and tearing at my pale flesh to let out the sweet crimson
that you feed off of slowly
and leave me in an empty ecstasy.

Oh, aren't I a lovely masochist?

You live in the wide expanse territory that is my mind
and when I at last had the strength to evict you from your mansion,
you had only the money to creep into a shabby place
along the borders, in the dark recesses of the outskirts.

I have regained my place in the palace that is rightfully mine
from me which you stole without a fight
because I was too young to realize it was mine.
I took back my crown,
I peeled it from your pristine and sickeningly beautiful hands
which underneath the illusion were ugly and gnarled,
and greedy and menacing,
dripping with a sticky green goo and
coated in an everlasting matting of blood.
I ripped it from your disgusting hands
and didn't even sanitize it before I put it back on my head.
Sanitizing is your thing, my dear.

You are the most revolting thing in the world
and I wish you no luck in hell,
but you've always been there,
and you know me better than anyone,
so sometimes I might feel the urge to call your name
and let you spill into my hands
and take your hideously perfect form.

Whether I am on your side or against it,
you love me anyway,
because you love any affect you have on me.
And whether I hate you at the moment and sink into
you just because I want to feel the deepest
pit of misery and you are a hole deeper and blacker
than Tartarus,
or whether I coax you near with a seductive wave and a wink
and let you melt into my skin and make my blood rush
and boil with your sweet breath,
or whether I claw you out by my spiteful fingers
and demand you place your gory veil over my eyes
and let me see what you see;
and perhaps whether or not that veil frightens
or entices me,
you are there, and you always have been there,
and you always will be.

I know you are still waiting,
and you'll always be waiting,
for the day when I crawl back to you.