He’s caught in the web she fashioned of old -
loves her to death; hates her strange hold,
and he pleads with his id, to forget what they did
while he faithfully tends to the flame at her grave.

He thinks he can chase her away with a fog
but only can hold her at bay for so long.
And the more that he drinks the stronger she gets
(truth to be told, that’s just what he wants).

Sometimes her memory tries to consume him
and he drowns in the ache of her turmoil’s wake,
but he cannot forgive the way that she lived
though he knows that his soul was forged in her flame.

The demon he battles never abates, but the scars that she left
his fingers caress, while reality strives to stay in the race.
He loves her to death; hates her strange hold
yet he’s caught in the web she fashioned of old.