"Ice Hotel"

The longer I stay here,
the longer I am
one with the scenery,
and you are one with this frigid bed.
Here the air is clearer;
and your intentions are crystal.
You held me close,
but you still said,
"The things that mean the most are found
and not shared."

And that's why tonight
I am sleeping down here,
staring at the skyline
that won't disappear.
The scene is painted
in whites and in greys,
colorful houses
against a bleak landscape.
And I wouldn't live here,
but I'd like to stay,
running from sunsets
so the light cannot waver
and the sky cannot fade.

But I find the chandelier
the most illuminating face I've found here,
and I cannot be changed;
if the sun cannot set,
it will freeze me the same,
because I can't paint my world
in whites and in greys
with these colorful houses
against these bleak landscapes.
If I don't close my eyes, my world cannot change.

But I believe if I
can catch my breath here,
I can breathe more clearly
and see what you want
and hold you more dearly
because you can keep me warm
even if you can't feel me.
I'm running from sunsets so I can lay awake;
I want to be one with the scenery
so my heart will not race,
so my sweaty palms freeze,
and my hands cannot shake.

Because you said, "Love,
calm down. Be cold and numb
as I. Find a way to be one
with the ice. You see, the
things in life that matter
are found,
and not shared."
And I want to take your advice,
but on my own, I cannot find
a way to understand
but to share kisses
pressed against glaciers
so I can feel how you feel.