I was ice,
Unrelenting, unyielding, yet breakable.
He was fire and flames and he was nice,
His flames warmed my body and eyes.
His pleasant heat engulfed me, even when I knew he was the God of lies.
I was a bird,
Even with my ice my cries were heard.
I was equipped with what I needed to fly away,
Feathers, wings, a mind and talons,
But he made me want to stay.
I couldn't let him in,
I did, knowing it was a battle I would not win,
Or more so I didn't want to.
His absence reminded me why, even when I knew there was much to do.
It was a fracture in my cold that I had denied was there,
It was small, it was a sliver, but it grew in his heated stare.
Everything he touched burned in glory, not flames.
But it was a glory that melted my ice, then my life was no longer mine to tame.
Everything was ashes,
Except him, although he bore his own scars and gashes,
Yet he managed to tell me,
Even if silently,
That ice didn't define who I was,
Nor did the ashes or fire.
Because I was a bird,
Living with emotions and free.
I knew that and what it was and that was me.