A shroud of confusion is hiding the

silhouetted phantom, that always seems to be

lost in the delusion of its chilling illusion.

Linking your arm in mine, I look to your face where

Ink-oceans help me drown in your eyes,

Like the newborn seal, helpless.

The phantom you bring with you, the one that sits on your shoulder,

Whispering things in your ear, turning those blue eyes

Into tiny orbs of ice when you look at me.

Yet some days you choose to ignore the phantom, sitting smugly on your shoulder,

You listen to what others are trying to say, you accept their help.

And those eyes are warm when they look at me.