Slow Unmaking

That cube,

forgotten in a glass left on the counter,

sits lonely in the light,

thinning with a quiet urgency.

Edges rounding,

corners dissolving,

a small disaster shrinking,

a slow surrender.

Water creeps outward,

a ragged circle on the laminate,

etched with the scratches

of past spills and careless knives.

It is nothing but cold lost,

trying to hold its shape,

a failing breath,

before it disappears.

The air hums soft,

warm, unyielding,

while the ice shrinks,

melts away,

a ghost dissolving

into nothing but wetness.