your frigid touch

i.

you gazed at me
with an intensity,
decayed by peppermint
and cold glitter,
bubbling
with dark energy

ii. 

you gripped my fingers
with a confidence
that only comes from a perfectionist,
the kind of assurance
a delicate artist
resonates from his brush

iii.

i never saw the stars
through a frosted telescope
until your frigid fingers
guided me,
my eyes glazing over
at tarnished constellations
but more so
at the touch of your frozen palm

iv.

i traced your shadow
with red-hot lips
that longed for a fierce
sprinkling
of shards of ice,
coveting your perfect shape

v.

and when those poisoned lips
met mine,
i lost myself in your storm,
drowned in your thunder,
sizzled in your lightning,
numbed by bitter
sips of winter