Chills

A chill comes over me,
Icy hands slip down my back,
Like water down a drain,
Life seeps through a crack,

Traces of me,
Are all that's left behind,
So few and far between,
That you could never find,

Memories are all you'll have,
So will you think of me?,
Or shall I be forgotten,
Like I seem to be,

Go ahead and forget me,
Because I'm sure you will,
That's just another hand,
That's just another chill.