the cold doesn't subside
and i have reasons to believe
you'd lied many times before, 
the fiction and lore that 
spews so effortlessly.
call me paranoid,
but i knew you'd never fill 
all my tiny voids,
but grasping was easy once.
now i stretch my wit
to call your eyes when i seem them,
in all the others that
stick to that intentional bias...
throwing my chorus to the sea.
so blind as i may be,
you'd picked these eyes out
and i can still see 
what was so wrong with you and me:
we burned out quietly
and faded with a scream.