Like sand I held you in my hands; 

Like chalice you made your way to the ground. 

A hundred something pieces of glass 

parting ways below my trembling arms, 

all my effort, all of everything shattering in vain, 

and there’s four, and ten, and sixteen shreds so sharp that could pierce through all of the atoms that helped me bind you. 

the seaside dust, like your soul, 

thrived around the fire, 

and the water, like my blindness, drowned over the edges of the most delicate material; But you weren’t porcelain; 

You were as hollow as yew. 

And the wind in her solitude felt pity of me, 

she couldn’t watch me hold you; 

So instead she rocked trees and took me 

to the summit, 

a place where i remained as still as marble, 

a place so cold I had to drop you before my blood froze;

Oh my love, 

may the earth turn zircon out of your fragments; I can't pick you up anymore.