It really hasn't been the same since I
shot you, not that I had a choice then.
I still can't believe you fell for that stupid
double suicide pact but it got you out of
the way... or so I thought.
Everything was fine, the police thought it
was a suicide and I was the victim.
Then you came back a week later, smiling
that same wretched smile and laughing at me.
I could see the bullet wound, it still bled.
At least nobody else can see you.
Still makes me seem crazy, staring at you
in the corner of the room or when you float
through someone and get right in my face.
You kept telling me to follow you to
the place where I killed you but I'll be
damned if you trick me like I tricked you;
and I'll be damned if I let you stick around.
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