•metamorphism of me• [finished]

decomposition is a work of nature

the quiet gurgles
of a gasp through
bloodfilled lungs,
pain clouding
your eyes with
every breath,
the heave of broken ribs.
i watch you tenderly
while your muscles untense,
wide eyes fluttering closed.
what will you grow into?
maybe daisies,
or lovely pink hydrangeas.
my garden is full
of sweet faces like yours.