Freeze

Something I've recently been pondering on in terms of myself.

I am frozen

like the breath of air mid-winter.

I am

the cold that creeps beneath your skin and burns you.

I am a fiery, yet

chilling sensation.

Winter is my home, but

sometimes

the spring comes.

When it comes, I am

reduced

to a lukewarm pool of water.

Evaporation takes my life most times

and I am nothing

until reborn as the dew on a blade of grass.

And I turn to ice.

A frozen wish, our secret, is that

I want

to always be dew.

To leave the blade of grass.

To cling to others, yet still

retain my form.

But

there are sometimes

in the spring,

just before I evaporate,

where someone drinks me.

I am happy

until I know I am trapped

and swimming in pools

of acid

and eventually left to waste.

So I am the freeze.

I am the bite of frost that turns you black.

And I will stay that way

until the next spring.

Reviews

[Soot]

I actually lost track of meaning of this poem. I guess It's more about personal feelings. Each line have touch of beauty and decay. It's like celebration and funeral at same time. I can feel monologue of soul in bitter harsh water of dying winter. Spring is always hope. But here is more like give up of own blossoms. At way this writing reminds me writing of Yukio Mishima . That avalanche of pessimistic thoughts.