The sky paints a beautiful sunset as the waves crash against the sand,
but in that I find pain remembering the last time you held my hand.
Your last days were in a hospital with a tube to help you breathe,
and now you're in heaven, I'm all alone, but you are free.
Free from the hurt of your cancer.
Free from the stress of that hospital.
Free from taking the many pills to make you function just for a little while.
As I sit in this small room, four walls and four corners.
I think of all of our fond memories,
thinking about the happy tears at me.
To think that my grandpa isn't here to support me when I'm down,
to think he isn't here to treat me like I have a crown,
to think that he can't teach me new things,
or be there when life hurts and stings.
Broken glass is like me and you,
you're gone and I'm here,
the pain cuts me like the glass and makes me blue,
but there is still beauty in there.
If I rebuild the bottle,
the cracks will show.
Because our love was one of a kind,
and no one will ever know.
I can show everyone that bottle,
but they will never be able to see,
the beauty that it once was and what it did to me.
