I think we are freezing
in castles made of ice.

In a stalemate of frigid disconnect
from the obscure glance of one person into space .
For connection, to anything but in heat, 
is null.

We both reside in doomed cubes
of store bought freeze packs. Until, a single rub
sanctions my day to the friction of your eyes
and our feet against the ground
fracture the isothermal lines, our connect and our 
divide 

Constant contortion in puddles of time,
the havoc of equalized warmth
wreaks the kingdom of loneliness.
And isotherms becomes the ultimate 
agents of demise.