Create-a-holic Writer

        Numb—

I plunge
chest deep
into a rippling pool
of wildflowers.

My shadow stains
what was once vibrant
         with sun
     with birdsong
with the joyful dance
of delicate wings.

        No pain—

as I drown
in this fragrant lake
          of milkweed
      and thistle,
goldenrod and clover.

A ragged, mighty gasp
fills my lungs with
           itchy
      scratchy
squirmy things
that rend and devour
the tattered shreds
of my heart.

          Numb—

Those serrated words
that curled from your lips
in a sinister tangle of shards

         No pain—

as they pierced my skin
to release the last crystal drop
     of my trust,
         my innocence.

         Empty—

I watch the drop as it descends,
its lustre now tarnished.

It vanishes into the soil
to become one
with other scattered, broken bits
of nature’s detritus,
long withered
and brown with decay.