Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Buried Treasure

I dream of your skeleton sometimes. It's always there playing on my mind. I see your skull attached to that long spine, your ribs cascading down to what was once your waistline. The femurs I once sat upon whilst you read me books, the humerus you wrapped around me when my body shook. I see your digits and your toes, what is left of your nose, the rags surrounding you that started as clothes. I watched that day, as the lid was closed. The coffin was carried and the platform dove. The day you became my trove.
                                 I miss you.
                                                        I'm so alone.

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