I am sick of seeing my breath So as I march up this bank My chin tips toward the sun and I Slam shut my eyes Let my face go to leather My vision go rosy Like my knuckles and nose Pink lemonade lids In Greensboro's blind spot I stand in spotlight Yet I don't feel bright, no All I feel is Wasted When I spin To lean on thin Air I smell Your sweater Sunrays are Your fingers And when I tap my boot on Icy ponds I hear your voice Crack My heart Crack Split through its rawest chamber The one you unlocked Today Eight months after I left you out to freeze