you are an impossible little bundle knit between my ribs breathing, pulsing some sick-sweet replica of my own heart
a ceramic imitation of the body i used to know all bones all paper all skin all grief, digging itself into the small of my back and slithering its way up, rooted
you are an unfortunate little remnant you are the body i wish i could be echoing, mocking, jeering at the fogged mirror where i look and don’t know myself where i see a name not a being.
all that craving to be delicate all bones all beauty all sickness, wanting to be healed to find another ailment, resolution
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