You’re the final rope
that’s been cast out to me
in the Northern Pacific
and I can’t feel my hands,
and I’m pretty sure there’s tiny icicles insides my veins,
and all I can think about is
how peaceful it would be for the ice
to make it’s way to my heart.

I can hardly feel my pulse.
I don’t want the rope,
take it away,
don’t you dare pull me to safety.
What’s my name again?
I can only remember yours.
No, I swear to God himself, I’m never grabbing that rope.
Let me rest and wash ashore far away from you.
I warned you, I always told you, it got harder to breathe
away from you.

I need you,
I need you,
I need you,
but it’s far too cold for me
to want you.