The cold came sooner than I expected as if the seasons were somehow reflective.
My eyes are deceptive, regarding feeling heartless.
Hopeless smiles holding emptiness, is this protection?
I watch how they turn breathless in my presence, it doesn't matter when I can't reciprocate perspectives.
Running dry of affection, I can't put myself in others reflections.
I want to rid what's left of this yet it lingers in my mess of perception.
Trust in discontent and warm skin, breathless.
Isn't it precious?
