It was beating,
It possessed an ache,
It was stitched.
He was breathing.
Engaged in his work,
Wrapping his files,
Answering calls,
7 pm he leaves,
Pays for the bus ride
Opens his home
Eats a crossiant
Sits on the sofa peacefully,
Stitches open,
The ache goes away,
It Stops beating,
He was not breathing.
Police read a text,
Received at half past seven,
"father, I'm not coming back"
Text accompanied an attack
He was not breathing,
Doctors told his daughter,
"He is never coming back"
Too.