Waged a war, the heart and mind,
Graves of dead, the senses haunt,
Ghost of his touch, be so unkind,
My skin aches for every taunt.
This pain, so sharp, yet I crave,
I burn them scars, till the edges blur,
From our masochism, I need save,
Drunk from sadness, my words slur.
Ocean were it, in the waves of ache
Would I drown and drench,
For I was their shore, and home sake,
Inking grief from the darkest trench.