No One Spoke of Ice

The Titanic met its fate at the turn of the twentieth century, the victim of an iceberg. 

Ice that could have been avoided. 

If their egos hadn't overcome caution.

If only they had spoken of it. 

🚢🌊🚢🌊🚢🌊

Chandeliers glowed with fiery charm, 

Crystals danced with soft violin notes

White gloves drifted with shining sterling silver

Gold light warmed the leathered lounge. 

No one spoke of ice.

🚢🌊🚢🌊🚢🌊

Wind blows gently through cold corridors,

The Atlantic stretched, stoically still.

A steward grimaced beside the window.

The night air drew a sharp breath.

But no one spoke of ice. 

🚢🌊🚢🌊🚢🌊

Card games played with sleight of hand

Untamed laughter filled the air. 

But waltzing couples footsteps slow

A martini trembles, spills, with none to spare.

Still, no one spoke of ice.

🚢🌊🚢🌊🚢🌊

Then, white gloves strewn across the floor

The chandeliers still burining bright. 

Hurrying footsteps, and muffled cries

The sea entered the windows, hungry.

No one could speak of ice. 

🚢🌊🚢🌊🚢🌊

Original poem for the birth of the Titanic this May. 

For Mikeydred's May Challenge:

Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.