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Cracking Ice on the Radiator

The large slab,
Of molton gold,
Is chocolate,
Is ice,
Is cracking on the radiator,
A day to re-joice,
The quickness of an ice crumble,
Or a simple cracked ice stew,
Days to remember are those when we toasted the ice cubes on our tongues,
And the ice melted,
The soft malicousness of that soft,

Melt,

Now I remember,

That a radiator,

Should melt ice,

Not crack it,

Just as love,

Which is so very capable of melting a heart,

Should not be allowed to crack a heart.

A contest entry

Please comment, and I'm open to critism as well!

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