I can feel the warmth of the sky shining above, and yet
my hands tremble with something not quite akin to chill.
They can't stop shaking, and I
feel the nothingness underneath my feet,
the cool touch of ice.

The opaque veneer trembles with my weight,
cracking, breaking, blooming with deadening silence
and the stillness of the knowledge of
where I am, what's to come.

Each one of my reflections stills, and I
cannot breathe, cannot speak,
and before I know it,

The veins of ice curl,
my reflection in the pool shatters and
who I was becomes
lost underneath.

Slipping, flailing, choking on—
the numb is like
nothing I've
felt
befor
e