You have a cool heart, in temperature, not in style. It’s funny how cool and cold describe the same sensation, but each carry a separate, different interpretation. But I have to say, you are both cool and cold, in the true form of both words. Cool, because of the apathetic tone in your eyes when you give that look of pure indifference. Cold, because of the frigid expectations and icy implications. You could be thawed, if only pride was as easy to bat away as arduous romances. I’ve tried to defrost your numbed demeanour, and attempted to melt away your chilly nature. Unfortunately, all you did was absorb my heat, leaving me to ice over at your feet. You watched my once fleshy cover harden, and cheered as your blue gradually took over my fuchsia. No use in changing now, I’ve already been buried by your unheeding winter storm.