Drowned by outgrown adulthood,
haikus wither to dull-inked veins that curl and
under pressure of another member laid to rest.
Like bones, syllables line the ground,
my knees carve prints in dirt,
hands gripping spineless carcasses of
odes once intertwined-
Tufts of greyed grass breaks and snaps as another prose is
suffocated into a coffin
A body now broken into pieces scattered on
chewed into fragments,
spewed over old oak-
Recreate the stanzas that helped rebuild
sewing flaps of this heart with similes-
I’ll bare the lines across my chest until you’re ready.