You don't even know
What you do to me
What your words can cause me to think
You don't even know
How you make me feel
How I just want you to say what you never will say
You don't even know
That I go to bed crying
That my tears reflect what I never could say

I was ice and you were fire,
My love for you was a burning desire.
The way your flames gently caressed my cold,
I wanted to touch you, I wanted something close to hold.
But as we did,
I slowly melted,
Your flame dying slow,
My ice cap dented.
You were plotting to leave,
But I held you close,
Scared to let go,
Your flame never rose.
You began to worry,
You began to fret,
My cold touch was hurting you,
Something that I regret.
I said I was sorry,
I tried to smile,
But our love was diminishing,
Like the flame of your candle.
Your light was almost out,
So you said goodbye,
You let me go,
One last time.
As you went,
So did the light,
While I lay here,
Wondering why.
You lit my world,
Helped me see,
Now you're gone,
And darkness has come over me.
I lay in this ice box,
Remembering your flickering flame,
Blaming myself for your pathetic game.
I touched where your mark had left,
A small melted shape is kept.
I hold it dear,
For that's what is left,
I have nothing else of you,
But of memories and your theft.
Sometimes I catch your candle wax,
Dripping here and there,
And I turn colder,
For more lonely nights to bear.
Your heat was intense,
So was your profound love,
But nostalgia fools me,
It's shows no wrong.

I was the candle,
You were the flame,
We worked together,
But never the same.
I relied on your light,
You relied on my wick,
But when you burned out,
What was I to be called?
You decided to leave,
For your patience burned short,
Afraid we might split,
I offered to stay.
You liked the thought,
For you agreed,
But left me here,
A burden to breed.
You never came back,
Low and behold,
New flames danced with new warmth.
But I still miss it,
The way you lit my existence,
Of how I once meant something,
Without reluctance and resistance.
But you still left.

Glassy eyed and
Lost in utilitarian cities
With a low-yielding love
And a useless imagination
With the bad art
And the public transport seat pattern blues