Cyanide and Love sick musings

You spit out the words close to my little ear,
Like you want it to mean something,
But you know it doesn't,

You trickle down my spine with every syllable,
Every utterance becoming part of me,
And you claim my soul,

I cling onto the thought of you and your false love,
I cling with my teeth, and the pressured white of my fingers,
And you claim my mind,

You've poisoned me and what's worse is I let you,
I didn't understand what you could do,
But it will always come to this,

In the end