The mirrors have forgotten who I am.
Why do you keep saying
that you know my heart?
You don't get to ask me why
I don't look at the clocks no more--
Not when you've picked out the cogs
and kicked in the dents.
Last winter you set fire to
all the words I wrote you.
I was never your thoughts.
I have shed your touch
and begun to live
with the things
that are colder than me.