Mucus filled moments, etched in the plasma of blood stolen from your sack of gold, a still beating heart, not beating at all, I surgically removed the cause of the pain, mirror image pictures, crayon lines taken up my nose, a doorway, a window, a sweet sympathy underneath my soul.
The only way for a heart to stop breaking, is if it’d, stopped, beating first…
LikeLiked by 1 person