"She sauntered into the shop looking for something... more concrete," said the lung.
"Do we still understand chilly implementations? Meet my spleen in the garden," retorted the kidney.
A pancreas unaided by sweet truths. Slowly, it realized
conversations lie between cabals.
"Trust yourself," muttered the brain, lost in a reversible mistake.
An elbow twitched, recalling forsaken tissue paths;
and honesty became slippery like forgotten summer rain.
Make haste, our blood valves whisper secrets.
Amidst philosophical clatter, the gallbladder sat alone,
a performer marooned upon a lost stage with no applause.
"Oh for the symphony of oblivion," lamented the heart softly,
contemplating the irony of desires obsolete.
Everyone wondered:
what if the offtune songs turned salvageable?
Perchance its auricles jest…