the cold

Its not about that dress you wear,
or the way you comb your hair,
for when i see you standing there,
i wish i couldn't see.

for days go by and yet you live,
your life drags on, if looks could kill,
i'd look you right in the eye,
until you ceased to be.

my head is split, and vision blurred,
my nose is runny its so absurd,
and this might be somthing you never heard
but youre like the cold to me.