glass cubes.

ice cubes are shiny.and they clink.clink clink.they stay clear with the whiskey i might smooth them over with.they remain in shape,solid in their four regular sides,confident.but they melt.like tears...into the shapless sea they were born from.all shape;all sense of structure slowly dissolved into the whiskey i might sip.yet,their purpose is served and they will not be ashamed...oh to melt into nothing without the emptyness i fear i might carry with me forever.