frubarulez1

The fan was throwing drafts of air my way that carried a pleasant-but-sudden blast of cold on them. Summer nights were like that, sitting alone, sitting up long past night-time. Too hot and too cold. Not cold enough to bundle up, yet without a quilt I felt exposed and icy. My blood is too hot- no, wait, it's too cold- for this, I would say. It's time to sleep-no, I won't sleep, but I will dream. Dreams of paradise, of heaven, of things with no name or shape, of fear and of hope; I saw them all. My thoughts were with the moon and the stars. They were icicles and raindrops of thoughts and expressions, star-dust falling backward to the heavens (

My Heart beats fast- but for what? I love you, yet who else do I love? Sweaty, nervous glancing, shaking under your gaze Or is it my most-fancied delusion? I deny you, and I defy myself I don't believe in like--to like is painful I believe in love, plain and simple but I don't believe my heart and I don't believe your words and I don't put trust in actions and I doubt my every passion Unlucky girl, unlucky girl- and why? the stars still call us to sleep your fortune was read with blessed luck and yet I cannot see you before me your voice cannot sound from your throat because you clogged it with honey and threw away sincerity,

Hades is no fire pit, no, Warmth Nurtures and heals, burns passions until They melt your sorrows and cares The ice- now the Icicles in that cave- In those eyes, that hate, that place That cold, frost, detested, deserted, you are in the Arctic that mad scientist fled to Trying, striving to escape the cold, grave, Heavy burden, fruitless efforts, dead wishes Ice burns as if it were dry Ice burns like solitude Ice is just frozen tears