Triple Point Substance

I’ve spoken ill of every wall of every tall
pillar
that shelters my own.

I’ve cursed every word
that’s ever lurked
tagged
to my name.

I’ve sought to be content
in a room whose sole intent
was my thriving success.

In a time and in a place
to which even I could not relate.

In a mirror on a wall,
on a pillar in the hall.

In that time all I see
is that I am all I wished to be.

But I’m aware
of the impair
that would be caused
by such applause.

I know that in such turbulence,
I’m a triple point substance.
A freezing point of steam,
Boiling liquid, icy beam.

Crystalline
with a thawing heart.
Raised temperature,
Pressure.
Fall apart.