once you’ve lived
with a cat or two
any item in the periphery -
a towel, a purse, a sock
becomes a still creature,
silently watching

Would my grave be
deeper than my wounds?

Would the warmth of the morning sun
still reach my rotten body?

Would Icarus, my bird, fly to the sun looking for me
Is my selfish death going to cost him his wings, too?

Would the worms weep when
they ******* tormented flesh?

What she earned, i consumed...
She was...
My world, when i have none.
My eyes, when i have no eyes
My legs when i have none.
My strength, when i have none.
My mouth, when i have none.
My form, when i'm formless.
My breath, when i'm breathless.
My warmth, when the nights are cold.
My shade, when there is none.
My bones, when i was just a morsel of flesh...
Where i'm she was,
Where she is i will be..

Missed Mama...