They say diamonds never break
And yet her heart,
When it did,
The golden of her hair –
Rustled.
Her ruby lips –
Quivered.
Her deep set pair of obsidian –
Glistened.
And
Brine traced its way.
Across the silver.
Of her skin.
Forming along its way –
A pearl.
Washed ashore.
On the granite.
Of my hands.
