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

A conversation with my guitar

Tear drops paint the floor wet

I can see chords come out

From my guitar

It’s trying to tell me something

Something urgent

It can’t wait, it says

But I must not listen

You’re a guitar, I say

You don’t understand me

But I understand you