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.