Did you hear
the crumble,
and exhale,
when you
were
on
your knees
sifting through the pieces?
Through dust
and falling fragments,
I've separated,
the become,
from the inside.
The garbage stinks
and still, I don't breathe;
For fear; My tongue may taste
my own dirt, and metal,
imploding.
I doubt
you'll even touch...
how very real I feel,
whilst I'm slipping through
your fingers
slowly,
one
element
at a time;
Finally,
to
Earth.