the soft curve of the sands of times
fused together to hold the oceans in its arms.
perhaps the carrier of life,
an amusing distortion of my face as I kiss the edges of savior.
i suppose it's more than a physical need to wrap a hand around cold.
it is the sound of broken, a crash
that floods us with memories of good times and laughs
so let us raise the light of the world
and swallow the sharpness that is glass