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I am
A shell,
Skin bones heart empty.
Put me to your ear.
I am a void,
Destroyed.
I am nothing empty nothing at all and—
You break the leaf
she bleeds
Sap on your lips
Scars on my hips
twisting twisting twisting
the knife
breaking the branch
Blood.
YOU ARE READING
Blood and Bloom
PoetryBlood and Bloom. Wilt and Overgrowth. Death and Life. Following are six Romantic Modernist poems about vulnerability, mental illness, and the dilemma of growth and when to stop. "I am a garden Four days and this tempest is feeding me Four days and m...
