It doesn't matter eventually.
All the pain that eats
away what we think is left
gnaws right down to bone,
sucks up marrow, absconds
with whoever you were, leaves
a soul ill-fitted in skin
like a too-big glove.

Everything shrinks.
You can't eat
and your stomach is tight.
You ache. No fever,
just an ache from being stepped on,
stepped away from, over
like something in the way,
and the one thing that might knit
up the raveled sleeve of care
eludes, eludes.

I wet a clean washrag,
run cool cloth over your skin.
There's nothing left to wash
away that can be. Nothing left
but ruins of a once-good heart.

It still sparkles. Less.
More space between each diamond twitch,
but music still plays.
Smile. Swallow.
Close your eyes.

It's almost night. I feel
the breeze at the screen.

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byAngeline© 6 comments/ 3837 views/ 0 favorites

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