I read you like a dissertation on icicles

Some come and break you down (or off)
They eat you
crunching frozen fluid
whining about pieces of their tongue stuck to you when they finish

They do it all wrong
I don’t ingest
or in-jest you
I’ll keep my tongue to myself, thanks

when I read you, I circle
and find you come to a point (as icicles are prone to do)
I look through you because you pretend to be a lens
magnifying and distorting
giving me new perspective
shedding light on light

you remind me it’s not about you
or touching you
but about
refracting
reflecting
evolving
corrupting
and taking it all in

so, thanks, I think I will