You and I.

water and ice,

two reflections of the same untamed tide.

I move freely, slipping through fingers,

you stand still, sharp and crystalline.

yet beneath it all, we are one.

 

I whisper in currents, restless and wild,

you hold steady, frozen in time,

but touch me long enough,

and I will soften your edges,

while you, cool and unyielding,

will still my storms.

 

We meet in the in-between,

where rivers turn to frost,

where warmth melts hesitation,

where love is neither still nor fleeting

but simply becoming.

 

You are the mountain lake at dawn,

holding the first breath of winter—

silent, waiting.

I am the mist that rises,

kissing your surface before vanishing into sky.

 

You are the icicle catching sunlight,

a dagger of glass,

beautiful, dangerous, dissolving in my touch.

I am the rain that carves canyons,

unstoppable, drawn toward you.

 

If I linger, I freeze.

If you yield, you flow.

What are we,

if not the same energy,

forever shifting, forever bound?

 

But tell me, love.

what is time to water? to ice?

A moment, a lifetime.

we change, we return, we endure.

 

You hold the quiet strength of glaciers,

ancient and knowing,

while I dance in restless rivers,

never staying, always becoming.

 

Yet in the hush of twilight,

when the world softens between breaths,

we meet again.

a droplet on your surface,

a crack in my current,

the silent knowing that we have always been

and will always be.

the same.

~ Mia

Preview from the book, The Air Never Breathed This Heavy

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About the Author:
Michelle Cuello (Mia) is a writer and artist exploring themes of healing, identity, and emotional depth. Her upcoming books, Ashes Before Dawn and The Air Never Breathed This Heavy, blend poetic storytelling with personal truth, offering reflections for those who ache, heal, and rise.