Thursday, November 12, 2015

Paper thin

Take my clothes off, there is nothing
I am hiding anywhere, above nor beneath
my flesh. Take me apart, like little pieces
of jigsaw, one by one and expose the body
that is no longer mine and certainly not yours
hand me the gown, nylon padded but given
a softer name, like lining to make the scabs
gentler then leave me alone to the monitors
the drips, the rhythmic breathing and the harsh
light. This is me now, rest in bed, walk, sleep
read, repeat. Whiter than pale and loose of
bone, there's a monster in my chest and another
in my sleep. Hold me when I tell you that I will miss you
I'm sorry if I speak in a low voice, this illness  makes me paper thin.

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