Laying on Cotton and Foam #2 ~ Rise to Ashes

Contemplating, resting spot.
Pillow made of gouda…

Seams to rip spaghetti strings from my cranium.
Since I felt everything, I told them.

Awash with empty containers of cream.
Glass diamond, heart of cheese.

Centered, I used to feel mozzarella.
Sadly, those days left when she did.

Easily broken peace; lost & grating
Marble and Gorgonzola, sliced with care.

String broke again weakness of green.
Without climate control.

These actions. These feelings.

So I tore off before you could retrieve me.
Too close.

I ran from mighty cheese.

Fermenting in unknown cave.
Without purpose…

Will I be gruyère or the grave?
What will I become?

Maybe just rind, garbage.
Nothing to be save.