When the mountains
crack and crumble
into millions of tiny pieces
we are left in ashes
waiting, wanting more
as the clouds
block out the sun
and
every drop of the ocean,
the great expanse,
freezes
just like your tears

So, I pluck them off your cheek
and drill little holes in the center
of each and every one
string them
on a hair,
dyed blonde,
and tie it to your neck