You were a trophy
before I met you.
Thought that making it with you
would be enough for my happiness.
Then, I met your sadness.

How you cannot see
how wonderful you are:
the waterfall that falls too fast
to ever account for its own beauty.

You were a trophy
before I found that you held no value
in yourself; no capacity
in your cup, even when full of wine.

You were a trophy
before I met you.
Now, I do not wish
to hold you aloft
to the crowds;

instead, to hold you in the sheets-
far, so far, from here.