Liquid ice flowing through my fingers. Elusive breathing in my ears, short-lived cloud dancing before my eyes. Ice cold of the air against the fragile heat of my body. White under my fingertips, blue capturing my eyes. I stare into the very embodiment of ice and yet, why does it burn?
Fascination. It's the only thing my mind and heart can contain right now, as I fall deeper and deeper into the icy embrace of the ocean that has imprisoned my gaze. My mind should call for restrain, and yet it doesn't, curiosity mixing with yearning, joining with desire. There's no holding back, the air has already left my lungs now, floating up as the icy bite of cold assaults the winding trails fingertips have left on my chest. Or is it ice? For one second as it burnt me I thought it had been fire.
White embraces me and icy blue draws me in, and I can't get myself to care as my flame flickers. For such rapture, such abandon, I would let it smother it, let him smother me. The skin of flames is gone