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There was always the fear of impingement. Like thin, white lines etched into the freshly lain ice of an ice skating rink, those worn steel blades might have left scars upon your heart, and this was a thing that frightened you so. Anyone who entered upon your newly frigid world you observed cynically. No one could comprehend the fragility of your frozen disposition; while you possessed the warmth of life, it was barely just. There was something frigid about your forced smiles, and your tears were as icy as your inability to pursue your ambitions. Your innermost values trapped under layers and layers of perpetual snow; your dreams hypothermic and unmoving…
You expected nothing and no one to break you free from the desolate wasteland your psyche had become. There was always some inert hope resting far beneath, but you never felt alive enough to witness it manifest. Nothing within you could make it effervesce the way it should; you watched snowflakes fall and felt nothing but desolation. You looked to hazy skies and you only felt lost. You did not see the winter for the beauty it would become…
But he, he saw that in you.
Initially his sudden presence seemed harsh and foreign. You felt it somehow suited your nature but simultaneously posed a threat to it. His influence was immediate; like vibrant apricity that set the snows aglimmer, he was a dazzling and wondrous addition to your dormant world and there was not the barest doubt that it was something you had not at least once yearned for. Everything about you began to evolve and of this you felt great apprehension, because you were not in the least in preparation of such a major change in climate, but when you looked to him you could see the vitality he had begun to instill in you, and this, this was a betterment you had craved all along.
And somehow, even amidst the sharp and icy blue of his irises, there settled a warmth in that confident gaze, that was freely returning to you the devotion you had so far lacked. His eyes did not petrify you but they surprised you with their consistent radiance, until at some point you realized that he possessed something even brighter than an essence like crimson flame. Instead he had the magnificent and searing warmth of the fires of blue, and this stunning man, how he brandished it.
He raged across the misty skies and dreary peaks until your world was lit with sapphires. He was enchanting, and under limelight he flourished like full orchards of winter blossoms; he would spread the grandeur of his personality everywhere he went and you could not ever help but utterly relish in him. You admired him, you would never cease to admire him, and you desired that someday you would come to acquire his striking vitality as well. You wanted to evolve into something that complements his splendor, something of which he would be proud to have tended to.
But as you are now, it is enough to simply immerse yourself in the rays of his influence. Somehow he has entered your world, a world trapped under permafrost, and has set you free, with the comforts of his fire alone. You would forever feel grateful to him for that, for shedding warm light on a charismatic side of you of which you were so long unaware.
It is no surprise then that you began to appreciate more than his influence, but rather, the way in which he utterly permeated your world, wholly capturing your attention and persistently seeking closeness with you. He captivates you beyond the extent of his attractiveness and the quintessence of his posture, but deeper yet, you notice the way his lips turn up when he meets your gaze and how that alone can make your heart scintillate. Or when he touches you, even as slight a touch as his fingertips to your jaw, or as assured a hold when he grasps your hands tightly as though he’s transferring his heat to you, do you feel yourself writhe alive. You deliquesce before him, and you feel he wants this; readily enough you begin to want to give yourself to him.
After all, not only do you admire this man, but you adore his presence, and you adore even more how invested he appears to be in you. He can be tough upon you like the most bitter of winters, but you know it to be his form of rapid devotion, and you know he sees great promise in you. He makes to exalt you and you desire to let him; you’ll endure the blizzard if he’ll sculpt something marvelous of you in turn. It goes beyond the scope of your talents to the foundation of your being; you want him to ground you in a frosted determination and the relentless desire to pursue what you love.
And he, to an extent, has already captured a fair portion of that love, although it would be ignorant to say it was just love on its own. In consideration of the myriad ways he has embellished your world, it would be an injustice to him to recognize him solely as a person you want to keep near, because he is now a part of your zeal and you want something beyond proximity, something that nears fidelity. And you are at peace with this, because he induced this in you, and so you know it’s something he wants too.
Even so, it is too early in the arctic season to predict the weather and form assumptions of what it is he’ll continue to mean to you, or of what you will further mean to him. Things are changeable, experiences ephemeral, and this is a notion you’ve long since accepted. But you’ve already experienced the ease of his embrace, and you know what it is to be the world in which he thrives. You are wholly enraptured by the clement positivity he has enthused you with, and there is no means by which you can or want to evade this. You do not regret the impact he has had on how erratic a person you once were, because when you look to the snowflakes now, there is only tranquility. When you gaze above for guidance, in the open skies there is trust.
Amidst the gorgeous wintery wonderland he has made of you, you now dance solely, and elegantly, for him.