Tenth Month

I'll stare at the ground
At places you've been
I'll stab with my thoughts
Your mouth in my mind

Numb you've made me
Cold from the flame
Numb from the fire that burns my hand still

A tear tends to form
In corners of mind
I know in small parts
Your view of me now

Wrung from my grip
The things that i have
Wrung from my sight
So closely i held

What i cannot see
Tears me inside
This silence i've found
My head in my hands