A sleeping river freezes
The fire that is lit at her base goes out and she's left there.
The hot coals will melt in imprints on her skin.
The residue will surface and those who depend upon her for warmth and solidarity will perish as soon as her body relaxes.
But we are not a river, the cold air has repelled that thought, I am a woman with a burning body leaping from the building in attempt to quell the flame.
You sir, are the smoke that rises from her melted contorted corpse.
Because falling is easy, jumping too.
Landing is difficult, when there's no one there to catch you.