You like to hang around
and always bring to mind
the party that was before
and how it caught on fire.

And now there is a nod
and now there is a word
and whispered in my ear
you lurk and will not leave.

I wait for death to come
but you still come around
and try to make me think
that we had lots of fun.

Or that it really wasn’t much
and people just are people now
and I should not regret so much
or so it is you say.

But it is not, after all
not ok at all you see
and though you would remain as friends
I smell the death upon your skin.