Good bones

(hello, abandoned writing, trying to find it again. (In a real way this time))

Even though 

your flesh is rotted

and fallen away

And i cannot bear 

To kiss your cavity 

of a mouth

anymore ,

And all left of you

a head without 

a mind of its own

A bag of bones

void of its joints

and growing pains

and its popping

cracking 

and sprains.

I hold you close.

Almost like 

how the realtor 

Brings me down 

the street

To the rundown house

No one in their right mind 

Would buy 

A lone basket of fruit

Glaring from the table 

Waiting to rot

Handing me the papers

Who I clutch close,

Closely to my heart

Her words ringing 

Through my brain

Which im almost certain 

She’s told every person 

Who burdened to come here

“It’s not the best, but it has 

Good bones”

Good bones,

Good bones.