Hot Coffee and Ice

I hope my death is so graceful

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Photo by Ronaldo Arthur Vidal on Unsplash

I poured hot black coffee on three square ice blocks.
It was a hot day.
The smell of orange and chocolate crept through the room.
Brown droplets of fresh coffee dripped slowly through the filter.
The ice blocks screeched.
I gave them some space.
I checked up on them every few moments.
They were getting smaller.
The coffee was getting taller.
When I checked up on them again
They were swimming in a clockwise
foolish kinda way
as if dancing in their own blood
drunk with ignorance
unbeknownst of their own demise.

I hope my death is so graceful.

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