This is my Blogproject. Sit down, stay awhile. Feed the fish, and read some art.
If you like what you see or have any questions or critiques, please let me know.
Yours, Truly.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Ice Ice Baby

I see right though you. This little tough guy act.... you're trying to trip me up, trying to be cool (though you're just being cold). Let me tell you now: it's not going to work.

I don't like you now, in the bleak midwinter... You get too enthusiastic, if that makes sense. Frisky to the point of pain. I may be a bit masochistic but you've become too much for me. You want to play when I'm trying to get to important meetings, when I'm trying to climb stairs, when I have other things on my mind, and lemme tell you, it's getting old.

You lie in wait outside doors, creeping over the eaves of my childhood home. you point and laugh from rooftops everywhere I go... waiting for your moment. You backstabber. Your icicle fingers of malice tricked me in the summer months. You were so chill, so sexy, as you traced my body with your melting heart... You always made the best daiquiris...

Now you lie in wait disguising yourself as the ground, stalking me, but it's okay. I've always loved you better in the summer. You're somewhat of a fair-weather friend. I get that.

And I like you in small doses, so I await the days of sunshine and your creamy texture.
Vanilla please.

Yours, Truly.

1 comment:

  1. All terrible titular puns aside, this might be my favourite. You've mixed equal parts tenderness, bitterness, and sensuality. Ice as an overzealous lover is a metaphor I would never never never have conceptualized, and you do it beautifully. Above all the other pieces, this one reaches that perfect balance where it can be read as to a person or to a concept. Wonderful.