I miss the way I used to write, but not the motivation for it.
Let me be a frigid block of ice that melts into my surroundings as I become warmer and warmer. Let me fall away to pieces as the sun shines along my body and transforms me into water where I then soak into the life that breeds beneath me. Let me wrap my slippery fingers around the thorns of the flowers that everyone admires, and let me carry the debris left behind from a stroll two lovers took. Let me be the puddle that she splashed in and out of which made him chuckle to himself. Let me be the dew left on her eyelashes that fell onto his cheek as they kissed each other goodnight. Let me be the sea that carries his ship slowly home to her, and let me be the cloud that shades those lovers who lay on the grass that I, too, have laid upon.
Let me melt away.