I never stop picturing
her porcelain body,
protruding bones—
I wish to reach out, graze,
touch my own rib cage—
all I feel is skin.
Weathering cartilage
reconstructs her likeness
to a cavernous maze.
I lose myself in crevices;
Feet out, no anchor.
Hair shedding
in a trail
always leading backwards.
I follow
exposed skulls,
plucking strands,
cramming them in my pocket.
Weightless.
A diet consisting
of maggots, worms,
Chewing mint gum to wash
away the sour taste.
shovel dirt in my mouth
and dare myself to swallow.
resolve thins through
the night. There is no hope
for me—only
her.