Twisted

I wonder if you see me , if you really care, If I’ve become some spirit , just passing through you there. A will’o'wisp with no real form, to tie me to your sphere, I am just a haint to you , with naught to hold me here. We used to be lovers bold, and cared naught who saw, held tight with bands of brightened gold, without a taint or flaw. But you have found another, who’s caught your soul from thee, torn it like a paper mask, worn on Hallow’s eve. So tis not I , the haint, but you my dear, and you don’t realize, the spider caught you in her web , and drained you with her lies.