Mushrooms

Mushrooms, they grow up on my heart. A heart once warm with love, Still warm but all so dark. The spores, they came from up above And settled here one day. They sat here patiently waiting for my love to decay. And then began their sating of that one primal desire. That which gives us all our drive, That which brought us fire. That innate wish to survive, The yearning to remain. And now here they go, growing on my brain.