sonnet

june 29, 2012.

so you are to fire, and ice to your love?

for every pretense made too hot to touch

this "flame" you hold next to truth high above,

could not phase me as if it's enough.

with every fiery and searing remark

frozen dead in all its dwindling tracks,

why do you promise to boil the lark

when your actions bear none but icy slack?

now so apparent your heat nauseates

and this love, frost bitten, blackens my nose.

should I get close enough to melt my face,

or call your bluff and nurse the flesh ice broke?

your sweet paradox suffocates your name, 

and so, I can only smother the flame.