You, who wield a sword of frost and a halo of freezing stones.
Your beautiful lips the death of any man who touches them.
Your breath a memory of death and past lives.
I long for you.
Upon whose breasts I would die a thousand times.
The pale of your skin stripping my flesh and sinew
as I pressed my mortal frame, longing and breathless
against the loveliness of your desire.
I long for you.
You, who have not aged a day
as my frame has crept from youth to the footstep of old age
I have longed for your black lips and snow covered valleys
your snow white hair and your glacier eyes
you grow like a tree within me
I have felt you in my heart for so long
I have walked your forests when there was nowhere to walk to
I have stared into those woods at night.
I long for you.
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