You fingers are so warm,

Because my skin is covered in ice

And my eyes are frosted over,

My lashed glazed in rime,

Your fingers keeping time

Of where we’ve been

By gentle drumming

On my icy skin

Your icy skin

Bites my fingers, drumming

The places we’ve been

Frozen in ice, in time,

Our lives glazed in rime

And frosted over

And my skin is so warm,

Because your fingers are like Ice

Author guidance for This poem

I seem to be haunted by single words.

I am not an unhappy person! Promise! (I am not on drugs, either)

That said, try to imagine drug-induced dreams. I realize these poems are confusing, so please keep that in mind. Also, if you don't like the content, just navigate away from my page. This will save us both grief. Thanks :)

updated Oct 23 '09 by Lyre