Heart in hands

I hold my heart out to the biting wind

A wheezing, mass of flesh

Pulsing weakly

Coughing blood at my palms

 

The longer I hold it out

The more the elements work their magic

The vultures circle above me and my heart

They can smell things that we can only feel

 

I stand there motionless

Staring at my heart

Waiting for it to say something

Author: Jack Bennett

Born and raised in Torquay, England. 21 years old. Teeming with thoughts that need an outlet, working a full time job at his local supermarket. Unfortunately born a poet, he will most likely suffer from this contradiction most of his life.

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