Monday, 5 October 2015


I could never smile, or else my dimples would betray the skeleton I had trapped inside.

It snuck in at some point and made itself at home, pushing my eyes into it's sockets and stretching my hair across it's dome. It brought with it teeth, and other surprises, like tiptoes and fingers of varying sizes. I kept my mouth closed so it couldn't come out, so all I could do was grimace or pout. I would say hello through pursed lips or with a nod, I kept it swaddled in my skin like a neat little pod.

Then one day it escaped and left me alone, my whole fleshy mass with nary a bone.  And all that I was, was a soup full of skin, with a sprinkling of hairs but not even a chin. And all I could do, was drip off of chairs, schloop down slopes and tumble down stairs. I could no longer eat, for I could no longer chew, I went hungry and shrunk, there was nothing I could do.

Eventually I pondered, from within my seeping skin sack, whether life was worth living, would my bones ever come back? But I died whilst I waited, and it just goes to show - never rely on anyone, and certainly never let them go.

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