A Collection of Poems and Writings of a Madwoman

Ice-cream Cake

We leaned in close, so close
I could feel your breath catch against mine,
our laughter spilling like water,
filling the quiet with something soft,
something only we could hold.
Your eyes, warm and lingering,
carried a kind of promise,
an unspoken certainty
that this moment, this closeness,
was ours alone.

Your kiss came like a pause,
slow and deliberate,
sweeter than the frosting
we scraped from the edges of the cake.
It stayed with me, heavy and light all at once,
like the weight of knowing
that every stolen second mattered.
Your hand found mine, fingers laced,
thumb tracing circles that spoke
what words never could,
etching the moment into the night.

We passed the spoon between us,
each bite of ice-cream cake
a tiny ceremony of trust.
Cold sweetness melting on my tongue,
yours meeting mine in a rhythm
that felt as natural as breathing.
It wasn't just dessert—
it was sharing something more,
letting the smallest things become infinite,
because they were ours.

But the thief called time
wrapped its hands around me,
pulling mine from yours,
its grip steady and unrelenting.
My curfew whispered,
an unwelcome reminder,
dragging me away from the warmth
of you, of us, of now.
Even as I left,
your gaze followed,
and I carried the taste of you,
the laughter we shared,
the softness of this moment—
something time could never steal.