Ice Against My Solid Heart

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Last summer, 2023, I was having a breakdown outside, at midnight and was shoeless. The ground was muddy and I sat, hardly able to see my screen while pumping out poems on a damp brick wall. The next day, I came back to my notes app and couldn't decide what to name it until randomly, Ice Against My Solid Heart popped into my head and it made me giggle. It's cringy, it's angsty, it's perfect for a poem about a meltdown.

Ice Against My Solid Heart - Self Elegy

Last summer, 2023, I was having a breakdown outside, at midnight and was shoeless. The ground was muddy and I sat, hardly able to see my screen while pumping out poems on a damp brick wall. The next day, I came back to my notes app and couldn't decide what to name it until randomly, Ice Against My Solid Heart popped into my head and it made me giggle. It's cringy, it's angsty, it's perfect for a poem about a meltdown. Dramatic imagery is beautiful and it makes me smile. I had lost three friends in one day, for separate reasons, all revolving around my mental capacity. Autistic meltdowns are built to have zero clarity and emotions are at full swing and turned to 104%. I was perfectly fine the next morning because going outside and sobbing was emotionally regulating. 

 

I am perpetually inspired by the works of the ill. We have a way of abrasively embracing one another.

 

Theme: It’s hard to be somebody in this world when you are predisposed to trauma.

 

It is developed through the use of hyperbole, irony, and simile. “Bear feet” is intentional, portraying me as a monster. I use more imagery to picture it as a beast, very hyperbolic and ironic. I show irony with my use of “pack,” symbolizing the people I chose to associate myself with, also as monsters. It demonstrates bad decision making, loneliness, and tells a story about expectations, expecting monsters not to maul.

 

The grass was cold and saturated beneath my bear feet

This walk of clarity isn't helping. The dew soaks

my paw pads, grounding me to our Earth

yet, I still have the urges and the desires

and without my pack, I can't do this

 

I sit here on this jagged brick, with

tears running down my face

My claws dig into the earth

and my nose runs,

as I realize I am hardly the victim in this story

 

Bittersweet tears of realization 

and no notifications to help

They all gave up on me.

I'm the hopeless animal that not even the pound could save

No helping this beast.

 


Submitted: January 16, 2025

© Copyright 2025 Rye Moira le Flibbertigibbet. All rights reserved.

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