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?