A look;
A precious truth that I cannot hold nor touch
tet can feel the softness
brush against my face
as your cold eyes pass over mine

The rememberance;
The days you weren't as frigid
as the blood that now runs through my viens,
when you were the sun
lighting up all you touched. 

The beat;

Music swayed from note to note,
pounding in time with my heart,
both of which you give life
through your calculated touch.

I must not delay in the past
for what's gone is gone,
but is it wrong to feel happy
when I remember I once had you
safely
in my arms?