Literature
That Wicked Thing
Oh, what be this substance that makes me feel so warm and flushed on the outside and yet so cold and empty in my heart?
It be not ice. For ice, though imdeed it chills the inside, leaves the skin numb, and my flesh quickens to wound from before.
It be not fire. For though fire burns the skin to pain, it also warms the soul with bright passion and life, that which mine lacks.
Oh, what be this substance that I abhor and yet drink in like water to my thirsty mouth. How can I be so chained?
I am a fool! It be love for HER that binds me so, that burns me and numbs me for lack, mocks me and my ignorance.