From my bone marrow I made
a little shell to keep you safe
from all the arrows
shot at your collarbones.
And all I ever wanted was for you to take
this small object of my affection
on which I carved my heart out
and say you’d do the same.

But instead you threw it away
in the grey sand at the break of day
where it wouldn’t even shatter
into pieces small enough
for me not to notice them
amongst all the other
little stones
scattered at my feet.

And now I have to wait
for the wind to bury it.

Along with all my hopes
for a little shell.

In which I can fit
my little soul.