There are some who may prefer a cloudless sky and the touch of a warm sun. These hearts are similar climates, and you may find them at no great distance from the equator.
Not mine.
My love is for the sedge and moss covered upland of frozen lakes, where the cold white blanket covers the steppes. Peace is found here, among the ice and whispered within the biting gale as it travels over her skin.
Her chill breath touches me, and I am not driven away.
For within my chest beats a fire as black as space between the stars.
And I go unclothed, as the caribou carry me across the frozen land.
I am the horned god.
Like I said. Frayed hair dipped in barbecue sauce. I can't even.
