Disclaimer: No characters named or referenced in this poem belong to me. They are the property of Marvel Comics, and I do not have permission to use them. This particular incarnation of Iceman belongs to Mercutio, whose permission I do not have to use it, but I hope that I may be forgiven for that.
This poem is for Mercutio, inspired as it was by 'Shoot Me', to which this is an unoffical prequel. It's also for Poi, whose Hank and Bobby never fail to move me, and whose 'Dialogue' was of the usual incredibly high standard. :)

by Dyce

Alone in the crowded room,
Voices all about, none touching,
Whispering like leaves high above,
And out of reach.
Walk softly.
They speak, kindly, softly,
And I reply in kind, smiling,
Lest they know, somehow, what I am about,
For I would not have them hurt
By knowing.
I smile, and laugh, my breaking heart
Hid behind comedic mask.
They cannot, must not know
The part they play in this, the farce
Of Tragedy that is my living.
It would be cruel, to let them see,
The icy desolation of my heart,
The loneliness to which they have abandoned me.
Unknowingly, I hope and trust,
For I know that they in truth do care,
But their lives and loves absorb them,
Leaving me, with none, alone.
They won't know.
I have a plan, arranged so carefully.
Take half the beer, and hide it well.
Drink nothing of what remains.
It runs out, I'm sober.
I have a car, shiny new and barely touched,
No strange thing I want to go driving,
Any reason at all being enough.
The roads are dark, the night is late,
Accidents happen.
They won't know.
Then all my plans are wrack and ruin,
For I have a passenger, a friend,
Who says I shouldn't ride alone,
For accidents to happen, and
He would like to keep me company.
I would not, could not, risk his life,
Simply that I might take my worthless own.
Hank is my friend.
I don't want him to get hurt.
I'll wait.


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