Dead Tissue

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

My kernel was drubbing for you,

Oh, honey! You bypassed that too.

Flowers sprout in spring,

Leaves crimson in autumn.

Bees leap their amour flower,

And erst they tour my stone.

Phoebus still ablaze,

Rainbow hushes countering the Sun,

Rains still whisper to my dead lips,

No change have I found by my loss.

The footprints that I overheard,

The murmur that confessed,

The love they offer to the dead,

I could feel, though the senses I have outmoded.

My torso is crumbled,

I can't breathe the ache now,

I met new shadows

Curbed under the tombstones.