Ice Nine
<br>
The stars burn brightest when the night is cold,
when the world sleeps, and you are alone.
<br>
But tonight you are not alone.
You hold her, intoxicated by beauty,
your midnight sings a mournful song.
<br>
“It is a kind of death,” she whispers,
“to prefer the person you were to who you are.”
<br>
“I like who you are. Besides, tomorrow we die.”
<br>
“Would you love me if I had thorns?”
<br>
“I’d love you like a rose.”
<br>
“And if I burned you?”
<br>
“I’d love you like the sun.”
<br>
“I’d run from you,” she laughs.
<br>
“Run then. I’d cross the horizon and
all the western stars to see you again.”
<br>
The wind blows, chilly with flecks of ash,
She nestles in. You gaze out over ...