as i crawl through the dark,

call to me through the wicked silence of my conscience,

reminiscing a little faster now.

you are stomping on the doorstep

of the heart you once possessed.

and the guilt piles on me

like layers of dust on the ceiling fan blades

and i hate you for loving me...

hate you for loving me...

i push aside the image of your face

that forms clear as day in the depths of mind

cold and white, with golden eyes staring

blankly into nowhere,

the eyes i wanted to drown in.

and i hate me for loving you...

hate me for loving you...

and guit piles on me

like layers of dust on the ceiling fan blades

as i stare into those blank, golden eyes,

the eyes i wanted to drown in.

our breaths mingle one last time,

and sitting in the dark,

the ceiling fan turns on,

and the dust of guilt flys away

as i drown in those blank, golden eyes at last.