30-1-13

she smelt of disinfectant

burnt and bruised from
collapsing and crashing.
brushing her hands against
jails and cemeteries.

she laid down with the
dead and woke up with
the absent.

her hands were whittling
away, ribs so concave
with a heart so obscure.

once, she painted herself
in acrylic because she wanted
to start again. they wiped away
her skin to bring her back.

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