Choking on words of a cancerous gut
a Valentine not meant for my yearning  
Grasp for fingers not finding my own
Bitterness, unyielding
Toiling
Mulling
Your breath, nourishing concrete bread
Hum to me through matted dirt and browning grass
Sing and ease my dying winds
Laughter, scorching sunshine
Wire webs of my own indecision
I’ve tried my best to not find nausea in your smiles, and salt in your words
Face me away  
And hum once more