Melting
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Entirely, as spring consumes the snow,
the thought of you consumes me: I am found
in rivulets, dissolved to what I know
of former winters’ passions. Underground,
perhaps one slender icicle remains
of what I was before, in some dark cave—
a stalactite, long calcified, now drains
to sodden pools whose milky liquid laves
the colder rock, thus washing something clean
that never saw the light, that never knew
the crust could break above, that light could stream:
so luminous,
                       so bright,
                                         so beautiful . . .
I lie revealed, and so I stand transformed,
and all because you smiled on me, and warmed.

Keywords/Tags: spring, melting, snow, winter, icicle, stalactite, underground, cave, transformation, love, warmth

she
       was
              sharper
                            than
                                    shards
                                                of
                                                    icicle
                                                             glass

icicle, clear archetecture

Your smile was a haven
A place I could visit under no circumstances
A blessing from god, but a gift by choice


You were cold, you were rough
Your outer shell was rigid, but your soul was smooth
Your breath was like frost, but your words, a kind tone
One of a kind creature, as you sat on your throne
Throne made of icicles, sitting alone
Awaiting your King, as you threw me out the door


But I didn’t care for I turned to stone
Yet you gave me your smile, a gift by choice
Made me feel safe, made me feel warm
Thawing your heart, felt like a chore
Yet I stuck around, you didn’t think I would
I didn’t think so either, but we still stand stood.

That mundane drip is so torturous.
The end is inevitable,
each second,
each breath
each drip.
Is it not beautiful?
With death comes life.
After ever winter
comes a spring.
Our expiration is approaching.

Drip drop goes the clock,
slowly ebbing away at our existence.
As humanity slowly wears away into nothingness,
we pray to any available deity,
for more wind-chill,
for one drip longer.

We are all destined to die.
We just hope
To leave more of an impression
on society
than an inevitable puddle
destined to wash away
when tomorrow comes.

Her breath forms beautiful icicles on the blood-stained window, her pale body lays in horrifying grace

Sunk in cheeks
Charcoal eyes
Her soul empty
gone.
Nothings left.

She feels only a slight tug as his fist curves into her fragile skull once again, smashing her petite figure into the window.

shatter
the beautiful icicle is exploded into a millon pieces and so the glass.

As her tired face hits the window sil
You can almost feel the break of her jaw as it crushes beneath the weight of his tremendous blow.

Her eyes are still open

But she is now completely gone

The last of her life shattered away with the icicle formed by her last breath.

v.v

icy shards are left in
my heart: once
it was filled with the
soft radiance of something
special;
you: an icicle piercing
on my heart insistently
until you yanked it
With your own words. it was to be
a heap of pieces of abrasions
littering at my feet; yet it melted
into a cooling puddle of water