You are a few fond memories,
Some words in my heart.
You are the smile when you want to be,
A hundred tears in between.
You are a photograph of perfection,
On the wall just out of sight.
You are the broken beauty of a wingless butterfly,
The sorrow felt as it happens.
You are a sensual dream,
Forgotten as soon as it is over.
You are a poisoned drink,
Which I will gladly consume.
You are the horned devil,
An angel of perfect sin.
You are the bain of my heart,
The doors are open, letting you in.