Hello, I'm not doing very well,
I think to myself.
I'd like to tell
You but my every apple, every cell,
Has been gutted and cored and you look so whole,
So pretty, such glow.
Hello? You're so nice on the eyes that
I never want you to know
The way I bleed through a shattered heart because these shards
Would poke holes
Through your sweet, sugar-glass wings,
Wings that could be delightfully clipped and pinned in a glass box
But I'd like to see you fly
Because it’d peal my dying, gutted mind from
All the empty apples inside
This holed up soul.