her body is a wasteland

Her body is a wasteland

she swallows headstones and

slices of regret, dreaming

of the day her ribs would be visible

with some starving comfort.

Maybe then, she’d be happy.

///

The girl- her rotting lungs

breathe swollen air bloated thick

with lies that she sees

now so clearly

through newly-blackened eyes.

Her coal sight is unforgiving and the world is oh, so, so sad.

///

Fingers too weak to claw back life

she lets her skeleton fall

and hopes her bones will recycle

into a waterless reminder.

It was a prompt from Poetry Rehab 101, titled "recycle". You can find more (most) of my writing on my Wordpress, muddiedthoughts.wordpress.com. Thanks for reading! The image does not belong to me.

✪ Angie