asymmetric symphoney
on return from journeys far and wide i find
the loss i am most unprepared for
a scent of driftsome missing in the air
and a small handwritten note
tacked haphazardly to the door.
“we tried to kickstart your heart but
nothing we could do would make it
live once more
it fell asleep in the solitude it arrived;
sorry for this bloodshed on the bathroom floor”
we must now dislocate this floatsome head
break apart any pieces
of the already scattered whole
leaping drums beat marches for the dead
to live i do not need a heart; i need your soul.
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