I do not judge you for your ideals
or for your fanciful notions of love.
It's possible, I guess, to feel such a thing.
Though, I have no personal account of.

To take your heart, still warm and beating,
and expose it to the icy wind.
If saved by fiery passion, all is well.
If frozen, it shall never be warm again.

So I do not mock your heat for I do not understand.
Nor have I walked in your shoes at any point in time.
But you can never comdemn my coolness
because neither have you ever walked in mine.