Monday, July 22, 2013


You and I were a process. We were broken down into something simpler, something essential. We occupied space together, but not in the same way. Give me your tomorrow, I'll give you my marrow.

"The fresh stage begins immediately after the heart stops beating."

I hated the way your hats looked on the wall. They looked so lonely. Sometimes you wore them when we went out and we pretended to be fancy. Don't step on the cracks, you'd command as we'd stand waiting for the bus. I'm not even walking, I replied.

"Once the heart stops, chemical changes occur within the body."

Once you told me that my face was too big for my body, for the sky. You said I could light up the whole solar system with just one look. Did you understand how space works? Do you now? It was nice to hear, though. (I'm sure my face would eventually be erased by a black hole.)

"Autolysis may cause blisters to appear at the surface of the skin."

The sun doesn't set when it's alone. It will melt your bones in the middle of the night; it will trap your breath under the sheets until you blink yourself awake.

Our bones are exposed.

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