how the skin

Geschrieben am 10. Februar 2022

how the skin hangs on your bones like a thin, wet, oversized

shirt, stained and bleached, and I will remember this

smell forever,

sourness and disinfectant

you say they gave you morphine to sleep and the patterns of the wall were moving

the tapestry is still to me

your voice is rough and faint like a ragged eagle in a cage with feathers dull and broken

I sob

you say that love is the secret

but all I feel is terror at the way your skin hangs on your bones like a thin, wet, oversized

shirt, and at this smell of sickness that I will

remember forever

you died when I turned the key of my bedside locker.

days

continue

my

conversations with your absence and

eventually I forgot your voice

I mourn

because it killed you a second time

I stare at my tapestry and the patterns don't move and I still can't see how

love should be the secret of it all.