What You've Done

Fear hits my heart as the burn hits my throat.
You are a ghost of my past which revisits to haunt.
Try as I might, you’re scent stays with me,
Nauseating me to the core.
My limbs shake as my stomach turns,
Unable to cope with the sudden spasms,
Beads are decorating my brow.
He produces a restraint to keep my locks clean
And massages my convulsing rib cage.
All of this is for you;
You’re dream, not mine,
My life will change, not yours.
Fear surges again,
Along with the unrelenting urge to cry.