Upon peeling sheer layers of ivory flesh you will find that bones do not reside. I have been battered too far to hold structure.
Fragments may remain, mend them if you'd like, although they wont fit right- see they shall snap, diffuse into black water blood receding beneath the surface, engulfed, once again.
The good die young, which solves why breath still twists from my lips, and is an elegant excuse to smother my vices. raunchy palms dwell untouched- long forgotten the feeling that comes with passion, yearning, to press still against anothers.
Kiss me tenderly but do not panic when I rupture into celestial grime and dissipate into the sky, for I am returning home, where I belong, solo in the void.