Cold isn’t winter. Cold isn’t that freezer that holds your meat. Cold isn’t the man that had his heart chilled as a child and never melted again.
Cold is her body that they all want to fuck as she walks down the road, and her thoughts that taste bitter to the air that surrounds her.
She is the ice at the mountain point that breaks midnight. Nothing darker. Nothing colder. Nothing more relentless against the warmth of daybreak.
Give her a crown and a torch. And let her be.