the rain was just a drizzle like my feelings any more as we stood in awkward chat and you can't find me any more. not in here, at least, in a quasi-happy fete, with celebrations halted because they make you fret. I can't see my heart to give it for it's always given back and we'll stand in smoke and raindrops with me turning myself black. the black; it can't reflect the light so you'll perhaps not see that my eyes have turned away and my heart it didn't stay and the part you have is just the surface-me. I won't let go, or let you in, not again. you'll only get the drizzle not the swim.