maybe we're all the melting rate of a sundae left in the hot sun.
i certainly feel like i've been abandoned under the harmful rays of Lady Sol.
it's not fun.
it's unforgiving.
i could certainly use the reprieve.
but to refreeze me is to reshape me in unpleasant ways.
when i get to a livable temperature, i won't be the smooth surface you first saw me as.
i'll be gross,
and weird.
curdled.
wrong.
YOU ARE READING
icecream brain
Poetrydoes it describe a brainfreeze, or are we talking about the melting rate of a sundae in the hot sun? layyourwearyheadtorestiwontjudgeyouhere