Cold,
the kind that chills bones,
cracks teeth,
and freezes blood.

I long for the warmth of a bath,
my self-made womb,
steaming and inviting.

I long for my bed,
soft, plush, and blanket clad,
my domain of sleep and pleasure.

Above all, I long for you,
your eyes that smoulder,
your kisses that sear,
and fingers that burn as they trace circles on my skin.

You are my spark.
And I need fire.