you say not to worry. the storm will pass. but i am the storm. a whirlwind of broken glass.
you say it'll be ok. it will be over soon. but i have come and gone, remaining an open wound.
you say everything is fine. it will go away. but I'm still here. and you still stay
my frozen fingers left your cheekbones in cobalt blue
your knuckles stroke them softly, so i guess you feel fine
but the fingerprints on my neck were from you
and the ones on your heart were mine
