Written on Our Tombstone
I am not a witch, but you told me I put a spell on you; I guess it must have broken.
I'm not a skeleton, but I always felt exposed with you, like you could reach in a break my bones with a single wrist flick.
I'm not a vampire, but you kept telling me near the end that I sucked the joy out of everything.
I'm not a psycho, but you claim I killed this thing we had.
I'm not a jack-o'-lantern, but it feels like you ripped my insides out and now I'm forced to carve a smile on my face through the pain.
I'm not dead, but I'm only the ghost of who I used to be.
I didn't think my life was a horror movie, but I have become accustomed to checking behind me and around corners for fear of seeing you again.
No, I'm not an old abandoned house, but I am still haunted by the thought of you.
It seems as though our relationship flashed before my eyes and now all that I have left is our little Graveyard full of memories.