You gave me a box
lacquered and fine.
It was full of broken glass.
I was thinking if you don’t mind
Maybe we could go to some beach way down south
Where the waters are blue like your eyes
(before you made them muddy)
I was thinking if you don’t mind
Maybe we could sit on the edge of the water,
smell the soft salt air.
Maybe we could sit together in the bake-warm sun
on a cloudless day when the wind’s just right
and eat this broken glass.
It’ll be like a memory,
Like a dream.
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