Did you think that the love would torment less
if you ripped the heart from your chest,
held it in your palm and pulsated it with the squeeze of your fist
The daffodils empty their blight bulbous bellies
and look up to their mother beaming with a yellow brightness
They now know only the hoarse nectar of misery
Their bulging stems merged with all the bleeding veins,
and they still bow down to the cauldron nobility of their honor
Their quivering leaves shudder when the petals finally let go
The splatters of tears are a suckle of resurrection.
Nkateko Tshabalala is a self published author of Poetic Flair, Amazon (2018).