Well?
A bruise to tissues that surround the heart
Results in gasping pangs when labored air
For humdrum life demands its paltry part
Of lingering energies, and ribs (aware
They should have tried to save the source of blood
From trauma’s harm) succumb to failure’s ache
Along with muscles which then seem to bud
With agony the way a house in wake
Evolves cut flowers to symbolize the pain
Caused there by throbbing vacuum. Profound
Assault on spaces round the heart can stain
Long sleeplessness to colors like a wound.
..Yet on the surface of my flesh may be
…. No mark of well-concealed catastrophe.