The sun is cracked:
Its rays are splintered
In my phone.

You spoke to child-me
In a shimmering quest
For fallen stars.

If i left the goodness
In the fridge, maybe,
Or spelt too many hopes?

Or maybe the squid-fears
Clasped my light to zero
With a gasping, hollow
Clear night?

If i did these things,
Then i am sorry
I was afraid and
Did not know how violent
I could be.