Same Stew Brewing

Four years later, it's hard to hate her, And yet the blisters blossom away; It doesn't mean loving is any easier, Than it was on that painful day. In the darkness it's easy to harness, The mood of a brewing old witch, Four years later, the same stew brewing, Always ripping with every new stitch. In the morning my mind begins sorting, The emotions of the previous night, When I ponder the pain and the envy: This vain vampire with a casual bite. Four years later, it's no debate- her Views will always be malignant it seems: I'll slip in a few drops of poison myself, Destroying her presence only in dreams.