An icy tingle bites the tips of my shaking fingers

As I reach for you. 

A cold glove surrounds my heart, and it lingers,

Brittles the delicate fresia of my figure. 

You walk on a carpet of fallen scales; 

You created my wake. 

You chose to face the sun. 

In a breeze, you feel a

Shudder escape my lips, 

A cold glove surrounds my heart, and it lingers.

Warming the thick sheath of ice 

Surrounding you, but only barely.

I never wanted it to reach you. 

An icy tingle bites the tips of my shaking fingers. 

Midnight winds whispered to you 

In lines of despair,  

And a line drawn across your face by 

One single, burning tear.