When Fire met Ice, it started as a slow dance. 

Tentative fingers tracing collarbones, 

bruises of smoke and singe;

scared to burn to freeze to ignite to extinguish – 

he watched her flames waltzing around his icicles,

she sizzled as the icy tears fell onto the ruffles of her skirt.

They moved in perfect rhythm,

as one; never missing a beat.

 

Intertwined.

Blue and red mixing like a morning sky, 

he dips her low, like the sun slipping behind the sea, 

a breath held.

Nobody believed they could make purple. 

The tempo climbed to a tango.

One body.

The dance floor a ravine and they glided, 

barely making a ripple.

Lyrics set alight, 

using forgotten love letters as kindling,

the outside world around them as blank as snow.  

 

The crescendo: the last dance,

inhaling one another like oxygen.

The evening thawing – music snuffed.

They fall away, breathless.

A glacier streaked with soot,

flames streaked with blue.