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Turns To Dust

I ache to feel the bones that
are hidden under the skin, 
to touch them, break them, probe
the marrow that is hidden 
within their shell.  Watch the blood
discolor the skin, drip onto the floor 
like shards of glass, shards of my 
former self, shattered.  I want to watch
as the moonlight shines on what's 
left of me, the pieces I'll never fit back
together, like a broken mirror, a shadow 
of who I used to be that is fading
away, it doesn't belong in this world.
Watch as the hallow, empty 
shell of a person turns to dust
and the wind from an open window
carries it away.  All that's left
is an empty space; a void that
another will one day rise to fill.
A whisper, a half-forgotten memory, 
an echo of a shadow, the breeze
from a flutter of wings, the
dust being carried on the wind. 
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