The dagger that thrust my heart wasn't metal,
it was the empty promises you fed me when I told you I was starving from your absent love.
Even then you kept reassuring me,
telling me to stop thinking much of it.
Slowly and steadily my heart has grown cold ever since
and no earthly fire or human companionship has melted it.
This current state kills me,
I've lost my taste and senses of things,
now I look towards the going down of the Sun and dread its rising.
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