Being in love with her is like walking on ice. You can never quite be sure where the thin patches are, or where the more sturdy ones reside. You have to give it your all, or you'll end up breaking through, and plunging into a frigid fate, where nobody can save you but her. It's impossible to survive her chilly conditions unless you're fearless, and you leave any insecurities you have on the shore. She's a frozen mistress, and her icy soul is one that knows no equal. Most think that she's cold because she has no heart, but I know better, for it was them that drove her to the edges of her barren despair. She doesn't know it yet, but I'll be the one to cherish her, I'll be the warm fire to melt the icicle tomb that she erected around herself.
And regardless of what bitter attempts she tries to use to test me and make me lose my way, I will love her still.
I will love her always.