You tipped the bloom
of burgeoning doom
when you steamed your tea
at half past three
and broke an atom in your room

We heard the space
where time stood still
and then the pace
on the clock was nil

I beheld a greater beauty
in the death of all I knew
I realized I had never known
the real grace inside of you

So sleep my second hand sweetheart
and dream of a world rewound
where we could be as we were meant
without fury and without sound