You'd think after many sleepless nights, that I'd get over it.
After all the countless fights, that I'd get over it.
When you broke my heart, I thought I was strong enough to walk away,
but I'm still laying at your doorstep for a light to turn on, but it won't.
The cold hard winter of my soul is coming and it's chilling my heart.
I pound at your door to get in, but you're indifferent.
Content to see the snow devour my body, "it gets better," you say.
I don't know why I'm surprised that you don't care.
"It's for the best..."
After all, your house and heart are a freezer;
encased in the ice of resentment as it crushes in, slower and slower.
I tried to warm it and bring life to your soul.
"I still love you!"
When I saw a glimmer, you were saddened at the thought of letting go!
So afraid of leaving the numbness of depression and fear that darkened your view.
So scared to see your dimming face in the mirror one more time
because you thought you were broken; gone.
Unable to see that the fading in your reflection was soot,
left by the fires lit to keep yourself warm in those dying days, long before you gave up.

Maybe I was the broken one...
Maybe I can't be fixed...
Finding solace in my house of ice;
wandering through it's chilling, lonely corridors to sleep in the bed I'd made long ago.