I became your brother beyond blood because you saw me as the fire who burned, so that corpses and bones would turn to ashes and blown away by the wind, so that the cold arms of loneliness and despair would open and move away, so that dark places could find a slice of light and things could have their own shadow.

I call you my sisters because even before I became your brother, women such as yours nurtured me, protected me, fed me, gave birth to me.

I would always be your brother, and all of you shall always be a sister to me. Nothing changes between us, I am and will always be the brother you longed for, the brother you found, and I shall be a brother that you could always keep.

And because each of you is my sister, I have to let you know. I have to let you know that I am no longer the brother with warm burning fingers. I have lost my kingdom of summer and spring.

I no longer shed tears, and each of you knows that I am strongest when the salt of my tears singe the wounds of my pain. And as I have said, and will do, I miss my tears.

I miss my tears, who is my warmth, who is my water, who is my banner and my shield, who is my sanctuary.

Please do not worry sisters.

I am now an Ice King.

An Ice King, and I could never even shed tears for what I have become. The mere though of shedding tears are frozen in my soul, they then turn brittle then into mist as if they never were. This is the only way I know so that pieces of me that you love would not die. This is the only way I know so I would never lose each of you.

I am responsible for the creation of two Ice Queens before. They were my lovers, each one could have been a sister to me and yet in my pride I lost them. I wanted to know how far my talents would go, and I snapped the threads of their compassion for me.

Perhaps some elemental force in the universe has not forgotten nor forgiven me for my sins. And perhaps this is just one of the small price that I have to pay for being me. I am tired, my sisters, and each of you knows I tried. I tried to live and believe that I could create something for myself, that I could find love again if only I believe. I believed, I believed. But no more. I am tired. The youth of my face betrays the deep scars of my wounds.

Perhaps one day, someone with burning fingers would come my way. She would lay siege to the walls of my kingdom, melt its frozen corridors, burn away the cold from my earth so that seeds could awake, an end to the winter of my despair, a birth to the spring and summer of my gaze.

Perhaps. Perhaps.

for ja, posh shan, jm, irene, amijan, jenny, ronah, lae, lala, irma, nikka, verra, julie ann, piere: understand that each and everyone of them left me no choice: they all left me. they abandoned me. they fucked with me, and i shall fuck them all seven ways from sunday. in time.