autopsy report

Detached, nihilistic words

Burned fingertips,
fading, faded
coastline paradoxes etched in your hands,
singed away, like burning paper

The fat, the secrets of the heart
    (350 grams)
Collapsed, now ashen

The silent neurons you waded through
    (1300 grams)
You are love and laughter.

Be still. Please understand.
There’s a tube in your voice.
 Later.
     later.
You must be silent. No words.

But now you’re gone.

Published byhal-lore

I'm another dummy who thinks she can write.

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