Warm
I was trying to describe you to someone I knew. The thing is I couldn't, not in a million years.
I could say what you aren't, or who you know, but would that help them see you like I do? I know it never could.
So I thought very hard and pondered a lot, and then an idea came to me. I guess it was more of a thought.
I guess you brought to mind something very warm, a piece of toast, hot chocolate, or maybe even a fuzzy cat. You reminded me of warmth, and the fact it seems so safe, till you get to close and it burns your hands and face. Maybe I was being odd, but I really could've sworn, every time I'm next to you I just feel so warm.
Then I thought, no, you couldn't be warm, cause every time you look at me I feel a freezing glare. The frozen way you look is just too much to take, that's why I usually have, to go and close my eyes. The kind of cold Mr. Service speaks of, during his tale of Sam McGee. All broken with howls and stranger sounds that no mere animal could make.
But you're not warm or cold, and nothing in the middle, so what are you I asked.
I haven't given myself an answer.
I know it sounds different, weird, even odd, but I can't shake the feeling what I told them was wrong.
I said you were no angel, no devil or god. You're not the common person though, that's what I like a lot.
And though you're shrewd, cruel, and evil, I'll always think of you this way.
But you know what?
I still think your warm!