Your Eyes

Word-puddles, in the deathly icy tension,
Are frosting over just like your eyes used to,
Right before your lights drowned
In the soreness of tears
That should have dissipated long ago.
Your eyes, no longer soul-windows,
Are merely surveillance cameras now.
I am standing still
But I am the only one.
People are just bodies;
Infrared blobs to be avoided.
Sounds are white noise
With occasional frequencies to relay
Or cues to transmit information.
Can you hear me,
Or should I leave a message at the beep?