My heart is not made of stone
But has grown cold as I live alone
Encased in ice in never ending night
Never to know the warmth of love or light.
A girl of passion, a mistress of fire
Does so stir in me a forgotten desire
The flame she weilds melts through the ice
And while I'm used to the cold the heat feels nice
In the face of fire, ice cannot survive
The warmth of her love reminds me it is nice to be alive
I have forsaken the ice and the night
Choosing to dance in the flames and live in the light
 unforgived love · Tue Dec 23, 2008 @ 11:29pm · 0 Comments |
