Treasure Hunt Poem by Diana Miranda

The arctic cold that filles your heart,
Like the icy glacier that forms your emotions.
Only ten percent is visible,
The rest is like a treasure
Hidden for someone to find.

I, the explorer-searching and searching
Your body's dark-water facades
Or dispositions like strange changing currents-
A cursory glance might throw me off course
But, I the explorer-I am different.

Where other were deterred
By your brutishness, my voyage
Storms ahead into you rough, knowing
Full well the best catches lie
Where others fear to tread.