My drought had been long
My thrist severe inside
The desert cold of my loneliness.

Such a pining I felt
And could not describe but
My need was easily understood.

I had a craving for contact
Of warm skin, conditioned hair,
Under the saftey of a comforter.

The Night's cold that chills
May speak of my need, but the
Wounds of my soul held the truth.

I could feel myself withering
In the cold desert of my feelings-
Such a death I wish on no one.

My rewaking arose with the cold
Sting of a blade, feeling warm
against my icy veins.

The blade made a flow of
words into my mind and
bid me to write them here.

Of such reminders I have few,
But I remember this feeling,
Which I asked to wait outside the door.

Upon Her entry I remembered why
I had avoided Her for so long,
Her cold gaze penetrating my heart.

It was not in my strength to
Fain a second defense against
The onslaught of her will.

She held me in her frigid embrace
And I thanked her for it,
For within it was a hint of what I longed.

I knew the blade was Hers,
And bid her again my gratitude,
For I knew this death would let me live.

It is almost morbidly humorous
That Loneliness can take care of
Those enslaved to her so well.

Clasping the wound from the blade
I walked out the Door, wishing to
Turn back and show my rejoice of my freedom.

There was little time however,
And I wished to say goodbye to a
Chosen few, and the journey was harsh.

The wind outside howled and snow
Bit at my face, much like those
I felt necessary to bid my adieu.

While I can scarcely recall
My meetings with both, I know
The burden was lessened by the visit.

The touch of a warm hand lingered
On my cheek, and the taste of a kiss
On my tongue were the only memories I left with.

At the Gateway to the
Relm of the Warm I looked back
quietly on the Land of the Lonely.

I know many despise that Queendom,
But I cultivated a fondness for it
Few can grow, and fewer can explain.

At 2AM I took a longing breath
Of the coldness that surrounded me
And with it I walked out the archway.