old cold sears the edges of her hair. it fades the memories that hold her there, inches from me, with that slack jaw, the faded eyes, I don't care. Stupidity and lust. We watched the submarines, and ate squishies, and drank, Jones and each other. Drained and alone, I came home, where she was lost forever. and to a solemn prayer uttered in the dark I murmer, with my head so full of faith. only to ask the air what a god so silently mistaken for nothing replies, with nothing. respect is what holds prospects from lips and fingers, feeling with weathered, remorseless, windcatchers, what should have slithered through nothing. its only fitting that HE should reply then, with nothing. isn't it? pry my cold fingers from my memories, and there will be nothing there. The air I breath doesn't change your faith and I can't say that I care. If I did, I would have done nothing. bones break in silence, is this justice, is this fair? Silence is nothing, why should I care? this cold is inside of me holding me there. and my soul is suffocating while my friends just stare, at the bleak gluttonous blood poolled to swallow the pair. her and I, all alone near each other in cold.