BLEAK

this hole
behind the sternum
that beats
like a heart
and moves
blood,
thick and rancid

one slow beat,
then another

a cold
drizzle
shivering
in its icy skin,

the sun,
that bright savior,
good as dead
under his
damp shroud
and me,
so tiny
in myself,
i am barely
a whisper

lost in
thought,
drunk
on sadness

knowing
better

oddly
ashamed

(54 unique words)