Feathery words

My heart is a stranger to your eyes.
You may have forgotten its whisper,
You may have mistaken it for lies.
Still, you are its fever.

My hands are not welcomed anymore.
Your fingertips are out of reach.
I keep their mark on my cheek, it’s sour.
Still, they’re your only speech.

These roads of ours tell the story of our footsteps,
This cold, dark sun keeps your smell,
You used to be the heaven in my chest,
Still, you are my hell.

I’m not asking for a single word of yours,
I’m conformed to your silence that slowly dies.
I’m going to melt in this story that rains and pours,
For your heart is now a stranger to my eyes.