[A/N I based this poem on a passage I read in Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil. Here is the passage:
"So cold, so icy that one burns one's fingers on him! Every
hand is startled when touching him.—And for that very
reason some think he glows."
So again, please read and review from me, since I did a this attempt because I actually got a review]
Icy
He looks at me and I feel the ice of his gaze
The arctic wind is held within his eye
Cold and merciless to those who cross him
As cutting as shards of ice on winter swept flesh
I imagine to touch him
would be equal to touching ice
What more, to kiss
Would run the risk of frostbite
And yet, for that very reason
because he has encased his heart in ice
It is almost as if he glows
drawing me to him
Against my will, and I am not alone