In my bruised purple world
no icebergs range
no glaciers creep
silently

In my pink cotton-balled night
no icicled trees sharpen
to break in the dawn
noisily

With no voice, no hearing
I’ve come to you heart-istically inured
to take my insular leave
tele-portally

---

For Sadje's What Do You See? #170, image credit: Sylvian Sarrailh @ Digiartque and dVerse's 44-word quadrille, "ice"