can you see through me to my skeleton can you hold my bare bones with your eyes will you bruise my trachea too or are your hands withering away like mine you tell me it won't hurt one bit and i just smile or try to nothing hurts me anymore. i have a thousand years of dust aching in me choking out all else. a man convinced me once that i still possessed the room for a little love and he cleared out a tiny corner of the space between my lungs and sat there holding the darkness between his teeth for a good while it consumed him. i consumed him gently like a tree eating a dead thing. to dust you will return. but if i am already dust, what then? have i returned?
This was beautifully sad.