Just when I think I’ve heard the last of you
You come traipsing back into my life
Larger than life itself
And remind me everything
I tried so hard to forget
And the worst part is
It’s not even you
It’s the memory of you
I sleep and your face surfaces in the dream world
I try to sleep and can’t seem to think of anything else
I stare up at the ceiling and can’t shake you
You’re rooted in my subconscious
I wish I could undergo some surgical procedure
To extract you from my brain
But I guess I’m resigned to living a life
Without a say in who remains in it
-Collins
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