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.