The inside is so quiet
compared to the echoing drips of water transforming the ground
into a shell
one wishes to slip into it
everything becomes cold and solidifies
it makes sense, the hardening of liquid to stone
it clarifies the mind as an ex-lover sleeps on the couch
there was no fight, just my dramatics and
his needing to crash closer to work
closer to the machination slowly turning fluid time to
what once was
the inside is so warm
yet still the ice accumulates
one or two tenths of an inch closer to falling
from the waters 