The ice in my glass is melting in the hot sun, the cool sweat on the glass is dripping down the side  in a pool on the table. I think this could be a metaphor for something. 

Ice…

The sun is melting into the horizon, a mix of orange and red it melts like…like ice. 

I detached myself from you and you treated me like ice or something unfamiliar, I’m unfamiliar to you now. 

I am unsweetened iced tea and you wanted Lemonade. You poured me out and got lemonade and maybe that could be a metaphor too. For being so far removed I was no longer the lemonade you craved for. 

I melted and I froze into a new mold. You wanted me to smile remember? You wanted me to look pretty remember? And maybe that could be a metaphor to for womanhood and our expectations. 

I was supposed to be an ice cube remember? And maybe that’s a metaphor too. Ice has a funny way of melting and not doing what it’s supposed to anymore, watering down your drink into something distasteful. Like womanhood maybe. 

Everything is a metaphor now like that tree in front of your old house it fell down and it corpse lies there and it melts into the ground and it’s just like ice and a woman’s expectation. Or the ice in the glass it’s melting and isn’t it the greatest metaphor? Because everything we had, our pieces they melted and…and it’s just like ice.