it is now apparent to me,
the hole in my heart
is greater than the sum of its parts.

my mind's eye rolls
across the dusty, ashy floor
like the proverbial meatball in children's songs.

in it's place, maggots--
the same that feasted on your putrid flesh
when they pulled you from the drowning pool.

your body hot, yet a cold stiff blue--
the idea of the god you loved, you trusted
decaying alongside of you.

they took the scalpel to your splitting skin
and in that sterile room you bled--
not crimson, nor ruby, but white as the fallen snow.

puddles on the floor like coffee cream,
in the chapel he stared straight ahead,
a stranger's ******* in his pocket, smelling of dollar store perfume.

your books, browned, arrived on my doorstep,
i gathered all my arms could hold--
swallowing the parchment page by page.

once touching my devil's tongue
the frayed pages caught flame
a layer of soot coating my insides, acrid and bitter.

was i already viscous and curdled?
or was your ending just the catalyst?
roses bloomed across my cheeks, and fear.

as i lay me down to sleep,
and try to slice open the darkness in me
instead of blood, i see milk.