digging graves

she told me
my heart
was a cursed
burial ground
filled with the smiles
of the most
beautiful women
to ever walk
this world
killed by
the fumbled inadequacies
of the messy fool
moribund poems
looking for the lady
with wildflowers
in her hair
never quite
never quite
a cardiac infraction
with every
freshly interred
light of love
marked by roses
that snake through
the hardened arteries
from consuming
the poisons
of false adoration

she wasn’t
some days
i sit by
the graveside
of her smile
whisper my love
to the plastic blossom
if she can hear
my words
the truth in them
i am just
an amateur florist
digging graves
to make ends meet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s