A Map of All Our Failures

I'm unaware of a response
 From my errant dark red soul
 Too deep to be spoken aloud
 I bury a word right in my heart
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 Frost etched the tall windows
 I have been cold for a long time
 Borne upon winter's shoulders
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 There are wolves here, many of them
 I am staggered at their hatred of me
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 I lie in complete fear
 I call the moths to tend me
 I forget the form of my sins
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 And drained of motion, the air itself avoids me
 And void of notion, unable to perceive
 Mouth barely open, almost fearing to breathe
 And there is no other, no other sound at all
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 Just there, to the left, his shadow rose
 I always knew he was coming
 Takes the vacant chair beside me
 With golden hands, he moved the hair from my face