Battered teeth on a broken beach,
I hear the longing for spring.

The sighs are so saccharine I ache.

If I could bring back the breeze
Or return the rising tides,
If I could pull apart the ticking hands
Or ease the throbbing in my sides,
Then spring would bloom only for you.

Each breath is a nail and our body the coffin,
Further from seasons we drift;
With empty eyes and sand in our lungs,
Each breath, you claim, is a gift.


but the sighs are sweet.
and my teeth ache.

There is nothing for me to do
but beg spring to bloom for you.