This heart ’twas plucked
                                 and tossed
A young boy stranded
                                 and lost
Laid in a fresh dug bed
Contemplating the blanket of dirt
Sacrificing this mortal coil
                                   to the worms
She found me there
  That coy mistress
                                    She whispered
Her voice the medicine to cleanse
Left as a reminder,
                       Stitched
Left to stories in thy head
A cycle that never ends
These gossamer sinews will not hold
To a finger that pokes
To a hand that grips
The flesh, how it rips
Left exposed
A dark nothingness
Lay thy hand on thine chest
Do you feel a beat?
It doesn’t exist
An empty field
Left for the crows
A seed was planted
How could it grow?
Water from thine eyes
And a hand to hold
In that field of brown
A little green
          Shows