she was fire, burning passion and movement that thrummed and danced with movement, quelling deep inside of her like a burst of song ready to escape from lungs. she loved this, the running nights and driving wildly with the roof down, screaming and yelling for all it was worth and collapsing into the grass in a heap staring at a star-speckled sky. with her righteous heart filled with rebellious justice it trilled and quivered and thumped to the beat of her breathless laughter. it was a drum that beat on with every second, a bragging and arrogantly beating; i’m alive, i’m alive, i’m alive. she was passion and anger and searing, laser-pointer red, that bore into you and scoured your soul like a pair of judging eyes, watching, waiting, striking. she was the lion. the leo. red-hot scorching, phoenix-feathered fire.

Ah, her flames were beautiful. But she let them burn the ones she loved.

he was ice, cold to the touch. he was careful. he colored inside the lines. he was blue and gray and smiled with an intensity unprecedented by any human on this earth. his eyes were emotionless. he was earphones and hoodies and diligence; and he never would hurt a thing. he is blue, cold, blue. and he was this air, this classic good-boy who did everything right. but he had secrets. he felt with every fiber of his very being and he hurt. tears, tears, tears, were his all, he wanted to close his door and scream for life. but he held his breath and he sat still. he followed the rules. and he was there, but he was a shell, a ghost, a fragment of a life that could’ve been lived, because he hurt so much and loved so much that his mind built a solid wall of stone over his ever-feeling heart. it kept out the pain. But he was scared and he was melancholy with the hopelessness for tomorrow, trapped in a routine he called life but was only a mimicry, a game of pretend to achieve such a thing. he was sadness and real, pure, bright searing real, a case of irony, the one who felt too much but also too little. the one who concealed. he was a frozen teardrop upon a cheek. he was ice.

He never burned a soul. Yet he hid under his sheets. Terrified of the world.

Fire met ice. Did you think they would be most unfriendly? On the contrary, my friend; opposites attract. You see, in this love, fire melted the ice, and the ice calmed the fire, in a dynamic equilibrium of humanity and healing and life and the sacred conception of water in the presence of unrivaled love.