It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I have forgotten you. It doesn’t matter how many times I deny the thought of you. It doesn’t matter the endless times I have said I hate you. The truth is, I still miss you. You still live here inside me. The idea of you still makes me cold. The memory of your touch still burns my skin. Your words keep haunting me at night. And it rains inside me every time. You’re still my ghost, my demon.