there is much to say
and not enough in me to declare it
i wish i could just
rip my heart out
onto this page
let the red rivulets map their own course, spell out
the way this feels inside right now.
your absence
makes heart sore and snap in
wooden splinters, newspaper shreds, glass shards,
sheer motes of
knife sharp dustsandblood
splashed on this blank white canvas.
elements forming stories, confessions,
vulnerable exposes of
spirit skin and soul.

(spiral red stains)

after all,
visual
graphic devastation
needs no more
feeble
poems, words,

explanations.