She had a heartbeat that raced and chased cars
She was never after anyone and had no one in particular
She was like a reserved box, labeled fragile
Enclosed in a bundle, like a new born infant
"Caution" was something she didn't come with
She was not a beforehand preparation
She was a victim of beings, demons is what you call them
And they were harvesting within her
The only thing she had to lose was the life that was given to her
Her possessions were minimal,
Not enough to surpass the numbers on her fingers
Body parts and a beating heart,
Skin and bones, an exterior soon to rot to dust
And the one thing she craved for was the strength
To get past the barriers of her heart
She was a body bag in the making,
An unwritten obituary, a nameless face on a Monday morning's newspaper
She was a roled up article next to a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes
The only recognition she would ever get is the folded edge,
A mug's wet mark of caffeine, the ashes of a finished stick
And unwanted condolences
She was the closest you could get to non-existence
Flesh and shivering bones connected
Lungs with smoke that filled up the spaces
Breathing like a clenching fist
And each time they deflate into a sheet of tissue
She lets out a a dying breath of relief

n.j.