… _ _ _ …
It is as if harsh threads of Arctic cold
Ran bending straight along the centers of
The veins that fed my heart. These scourges tolled
Their wire-like ways through me and froze my love.
The threads swelled up so much that they replaced
The blood that could have flowed in living heat.
They slowly turned the red to coldness laced
With frost and crystals. Feeling them accrete
Inside my arteries, and chest, and lungs,
I knew that you and I were doomed. The Fates
Did not produce this thready death. Ice bungs
Formed. Truth requires the truth. My heart dictates
Inside its iceberg floating near you now.
Your prone ice-breaker turns away it prow.