To hate is to remain loving,
But for you I feel nothing,
But cold.
These hands used to be on fire
Like summer doused in kerosine, alight with lust for life
Snuffed out slowly, drowned in their own sweat
Now everything they touch is forgot. Forget,
But your mirage was never kind
To leave your trails of sand then hide
Short-circuit the engine of my mind
Now, these insects set in like poison
Inject their fever and move on
Of cheap heat, premeditated, less emotion
Calculated, slowly, as to draw the infection on
But two young hearts can never seem to last
Too fickle, fragile, thin as glass
So I'll search for flame in older arms
With their matches, find sparks of your love's warmth
Sick trick, sad ash, to make this season pass
They say the blacker the burn, the less it will last
If only I could fool myself just the same,
Because even cold hands can tell a dull flame.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
To hate is to remain loving,
But for you I feel nothing,
But cold.
These hands used to be on fire
Like summer doused in kerosine, alight with lust for life
Snuffed out slowly, drowned in their own sweat
Now everything they touch is forgot. Forget,
But your mirage was never kind
To leave your trails of sand then hide
Short-circuit the engine of my mind
Now, these insects set in like poison
Inject their fever and move on
Of cheap heat, premeditated, less emotion
Calculated, slowly, as to draw the infection on
But two young hearts can never seem to last
Too fickle, fragile, thin as glass
So I'll search for flame in older arms
With their matches, find sparks of your love's warmth
Sick trick, sad ash, to make this season pass
They say the blacker the burn, the less it will last
If only I could fool myself just the same,
Because even cold hands can tell a dull flame.
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