(All writing published here is owned by me unless cited otherwise.)
I miss the starch and smell of you,
and the hum you hum to steady your nerve-wracked self
The dark rings around your wrists, where they were broke and later were mended.
There are places in every person they fear will forever be left untouched.
I bend unevenly and crease like paper,
The iron burns and I singe, stain, soil.
But because you felt to your bones,
In a fearful final way you had never felt before,
That recovery was a fight you did not want to win,
You were ready and willing to give up.
The immune system caved and crashed,
Bats scattered from every cracked rock and your body flailed.
But you screamed more than you fought it away,
And you screamed until you had been eaten whole
Until your bones were dry and you left ghostly
With only shadows of feeling in all of your limbs and chambers of body.