“I’m dead” she said.
“Dead?” asked her honey?
“What do you mean?”
“I am slain at last
in the icy grip of
your death hand glare,
and solo icicle silences!”
She fairly dripped martyr blood
from every precisely chosen word
weighted just so and
freighted with layers…
“Ah” her honey replied, nodding.
They peddled on in silence
each one a universe of laughter
inside the heart they share.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Quite brilliant the arrangement of words.
Thank you! ☺
Haunting and cryptic, the ending has left me quite perplexed and intrigued. Perhaps because I can relate it to a recent experience, and am brining my own weight of interpretation, but that is of course one of your greatest strengths: that your work has an almost infinite scope of meanings (befitting its inspired nature).