Robert J.W.

Drying The Bones

 

I tore out my
skeleton
bone by
bone
and placed it by the
sun to
dry from
years of
crying.
The crackling of the
cartilage was like
fireworks,
lighting up the
sky with
effervescent catharsis.
By now, a
crowd gathered to
watch as I
placed my
skeleton back into my
flesh.
They watched in
terror as every
bone snapped into
place but they’ve
never been
reborn
I suppose;
they cried and
screamed while I just
shrugged,
smiled, and
strutted away.

***

 

 

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