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Apr 2018
Your soft skin is pale and transparent
A no longer beating heart is portruding as if it was so to say: let me finish this.
There wasn’t a chance to finish, you left undone
Your skin still so translucent and clear
Your blue lips sealed as if they were to say: Please be gentle.
You shot yourself in the chest so that your face will remain beautiful
And yes – you’re beautiful as you’re lying there on a cold metal table
Soon scissors and knives will rip open your abdomen and examine what you left behind
Maybe your liver will tell them the stories of how we met at a bar and how you loved drinking too much wine
Maybe your lungs will reveal that – sometimes, when you were mad at me – you smoked cigarettes
Maybe your mouth will speak about that one time we kissed at the cinema for the whole film
Maybe they will forcefully open your eyes to see if you’re still watching
I hope that when they sew you up again, they’ll leave a tiny crack in your chest for your soul to leave
Let it fly out the window and watch sunsets with me

Yesterday I had someone clean your room
The police came and took some things with them
They took your suicide note with them, for the file they say
You’re a file now
They asked about the ****** blanket
And I told them you wrapped yourself into it so that your ****** torso wont make a mess
Which is kind of funny because the mess really just started when they took the blanket and left me there, alone, in an empty room.
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