When I close my eyes, all I can see is you—

Smiling like the happiest person alive.

Was I wrong to think

That it was because of me?

As time goes by—a month? A year?—

The pain doesn't fade, and I wonder:

Did I do something

To make you turn away?

Why is it that, even when I wrap myself

In a blanket hot as a scalding iron,

I am still chilled by

Your prior heartlessness?

Why is it that, even though I know

You are not who I thought you were,

I am still haunted

By my love for you?