Dependent

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 20, 2018

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Submitted: September 20, 2018

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I watched, as slowly, your eyes started to look at something just behind me.

Over time, bright, and hopeful turned grey, and ghost-like.

You ripped your lungs from your heaving chest, and replaced my charred ones with your own.

My vices left you stiff, cold, and empty.

As your freezing hands reached for anything familiar in me, I snapped your brittle fingers clean off one by one and waltzed away.

From six miles down the road, I beckoned you towards me.

You tried to move But you were only bones.


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