delicate love.

Brittle blood drops
congealed apathy.
The time we took instead of shared
The time we spent watching less than ourselves
The three wishes we each made
added up to six
All six were not about us or where we stood
on money
on friends
on expensive dreams
on beauty
on vanity
and on revenge
When the delicate heart business declares itself relevent
Does it matter when I stand up and shout,
"That Hurts!"
In this time capsule
there is sand
there is glass
there is something we may call dirt
We make diamonds out of the mess of dirt
Like fragments of fragile hearts
We pray to pick up what's left of Us and make a humble Union.