The worm in my heart

empty but for this

I can feel it there -
a squiggling wretch
inside my dead chest.
The worm in my heart
wriggles and squirms
like a maggot delighting
in rotting flesh.

It mocks me -
a living thought
inside this shell,
stagnant, impotent.
My once fruitful being
now sags with fleeting memory.
Soon nothing will be left
but for the little beast -

The worm in my heart.