It was business as usual.
I stitched irregular shapes to one another into a shell, filled it with remnants to give it shape.
Plus a little more in the belly so it’ll sit straighter, taller, and it broke.
Right in the centre where the human ribcage would be to protect the heart and lungs.
I patched the gaping hole with what’s left on the desk— a blossom print.
Flowers always find their way to life abandoned.
Her heart will never stop breathing.
I call her Heather.