Words as smooth as melting ice,
And as cold as cold can be . . .
To hear them only one more time
Would surely be the death of me.
The night-mares surface once again,
But from where inside my mind?
Few moments pass when he occurs
In winding headaches so unkind.
Nights have passed without deep slumber,
And nights have passed with deepest rest,
But whether I find sleep, or not,
I find the nights without him best.