There are exclamation points in your eyes.
three then four then five and six.
They are what my mother would have called
a quiver full of shooting arrows
meant straight for the heart.
What you and her don’t know
is that poisoned arrows
have a way of avoiding me.
I am the anti-dote
the anti-thesis to all things love.
I am a waxen maiden,
with sweet nothings slipping off me.
The crystal queen,
fashioned of ice.
Hate me, for all I do is hate.
Fear me, for the flame in me has died.