you are that of the sun, which yearns for cold. i am that of the ice which yearns for warmth.
you are warmth.
like sunlight seeps into my skin
as hot summer wine spills over my lips.
you are pure gold.
glinting off of petals
running down the leaves like drops of dew
on a morning after summer rain.
you are the sun, the summer king,
who tucks my hair behind my ear,
and suddenly a dandelion rests there.

i am cold.
like crystal snow creeps over your skin
as water falls from where it does not wish to be.
i am blue-white.
pale skin so soft, taking in the cold
as ice claws its way over the earth,
over you.

and we touch, and it burns, seasons clashing, searing pain sharp like needles.
and in your eyes that speak of golden wine,
fire and dancing and such,
i am the queen of snow.
cold to the touch, with eyes that pierce like a winter storm.
you calm my storm.
you, who settles icy winds,
my thrashing and screaming.
you, who soothes my pain,
who calms me.
though your skin burns white hot, searing my frost bitten fingertips,
i long for it.