a shattered wrist reaching out towards
the undeniable scoffing of all your trophies
smudged with prints and at-home stitches
no.
they just dont make them like they used to
but really, where to start?
there were yellowed grinning polaroids
and heart shaped confetti
under the glass that was replaced
next to the soot in the fireplace
that would remain in indefinite disuse
i was in love
and you
you were a stone
moss covered but proud
stubborn and bruised
likened to a broken bottle
christened this humble ship
sailing clear past my head
and into complete nothingness

god himself did see sparks
in a sense
infinite
and unconditionally yours