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Icicle
I look into his eyes
For hope of emotion
Of any sort at all
From this man that I love
But his eyes are still pale
Cold, unyielding
But he whispers words to me anyway
And I still love him.
My hands feel his chest
Up to the coldest part of him
I shiver and press my cheek against it
Wanting to hear a heartbeat.
A steady thumping greets my ears
But after every beat I feel the chill seep through my cheek
And I cry
Wondering how such a man could be so cold.
I clutch his hands
Now at least they're warm
Warmer than my cheek
He plants a kiss in my hair.
I'm afraid to look at him again
To see if there's any emotion there
From what I feel, from what I hear
It's as if his heart's frozen...
Turned blue instead of rosy red
No warm touches, icy chills instead
For my poor lover's heart, I fear
Is one solid thumping icicle
Waiting to be melted.
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Note: One of my first - what's the word for it, roleplaying? um - poems, where I fly out of my frame of mind and assume another's. I've been writing more poems like that lately (a good number of 2001 and 2002 works). I wanted to believe at first that it was probably for Spooky, who lacked most emotion and was more or less one-minded. But when I reread it, then and now, I'm positive it had little to do with my situation with him then.