SublimationA Poem by Jodie
sublimation:
noun [uncountable] [1] the process in which a substance is changed from a solid substance into a gas or from a gas into a solid substance without first becoming a liquid. [2] the process by which i fell for him. uncontrollable, black and white, i've never known grey anyways. slowly, and then all at once. no liquid transition of uncertainty. no lukewarm tea. the moment before i tipple the milk in is the sweetest a reminder of his eyes for breakfast. and then, naturally, i dilute the moment. i have a habit of doing that: putting too much into something, cooling it to an undrinkable grey. i'm always too much, or too little. i wish i could be comfortable, not this bone numbing cold in the mornings and burn-your-toes-on-the-radiator nights. i wish i could fall gradually instead of launching myself off the ledge, to swim would be nice but i always drown. i'd love to lap at your calves, sweep over your feet; i don't want to be a storm. what could i pour on this oil fire of passion to quench the flames? a candle, would be nice why do i have to burn everything down? he lit the match, and there i was thinking i would pool into melted wax, instead i evaporated completely. solids fall when you drop them, and i've been falling, helplessly, for eight months. you expect to be pushed from the cliff edge; i must've had my guard down when he kissed me and sent me tumbling. it's impossible not to fall for him when you watch his hands move as he tells stories. i have no idea how he manages to make physics interesting, but i finally understand sublimation. - j.f. © 2018 JodieReviews
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Added on April 15, 2018Last Updated on April 15, 2018 |