Slowly But Surely

We lay there,
in the cornfields
for quite some time it seems
the frost covers
the ground underneath the ears,
beneath the leaves.

Lost in that sleep,
your eyes closed,
cold as ice, it seems
that my flashbacks
of you and I
don't seem to make a niche.

You're still stuck
at the worst part of you
lost in what you want to be
misguided, you try it,
desperate, and yet it seems
this is slowly but surely killing me.