do you still keep the cold
under your fingertips?
running them across,
poor souls looking
in the wrong places.
frozen by your touch,
kept by a sense of trust.
til they crack,
under the pressure
put on by your heart.
so they melt away
in the sun, sadly.
but all told,
they had nothing
going for them anyway.
they were just
something for you
to pass the time.