I am only cold when I am pressed with pain, and the disturbance of it plunges me glacial, I look at the world through a glaze, no longer knowing my heat. Then words are spoken, best done direct, and the skies break, the ocean warms, the ice cracks, and my limbs return to natural order, I am back to where I was before. So full of feeling I am overflowing. So forgive me if I am too effusive of your writing or your beauty or your being. It’s not that I want to fuck you, or that I want to run the edges of my canines across your velvet, or that I want to steal a portion you are partly willing to relinquish, it’s that I’m a flirt and the whole world is filled with such wonder as yourself.