This poem is longlisted for the BN Poetry Award.


(I’m just here, staring at the ice cubes on the ice tray by my side
Then, like in a game of cards,
I draw out a tough one, that’s yet to melt.)

It’s a crystal clear, ice cold Cube.
So cold, I can see smoke come off of it.
So cold, it sticks to my tips when I touch it.
So cold, it burns, and stings and numbs me,
And it rubs off the cold on me, this ice cold crystal clear cube.

Then you come along; like heat to that ice-cold, crystal clear cube.
You sneak up on me; you make me take down my guard.
I stop believing, like that ice cold, crystal clear cube,
That ice cold is the ideal state of my heart.

You warm up to me, and I, in turn, like the ice cold cube, warms off my comfort zone.
You melt my heart of ice,
And soon enough, the only solid, sane, part of it is swimming in a pool of its own,
Just like the ice cold, crystal, clear, melting cube.

They call you the King of Hearts,
Because it’s always what you draw each time a round of cards is won.
And they call me the Queen of Heart-breaks,
Because I seem to head the club of hearts that loved and lost.

What you know not about me, Mr King,
Is that you didn’t break my heart honey-
You sort of melted it.
And no, there aren’t broken pieces to pick up, sorry…
‘Cos Like that ice-cold, crystal clear cube,
My heart melts, but it doesn’t break.

So sorry, honey, it’s not me, it’s you;
It’s that you’re too warm to be around…
Cold hearts like mine got no to time for lukewarm.
You’re either cold, hot or you’re out…

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