Her pale skins scabs over and grows back translucent.
She’s disappearing, but she glows like starlight.
It bursts from her pores, shining and silver and still.

Still, so still.

Inside she’s screaming, clawing at the nerves of her brain.
Spiders crawl across her arm.
She’s a prisoner in her own skeleton.
She breaks her skin, though she can’t break through.

Still, she cannot move.

Her body fades into transparency as the world looks on oblivious.
Look, class!
Look how she rattles at the cage of her bones.
Look how they shake and lock her in tight.
Look how still she sits, so still.
Look how beautiful she’d be if she smiled.
Let’s stitch one across her face and tell her she’s fine.    

Still, I watch her from a distance.

I can’t look away, but I can’t help.
God knows I’ve tried.
I kiss her lips, hold her wrists, try to tell her body it’s still alive.
I try to tell her that life is more than the bones which imprison her.
I try to see her, but she’s disappearing.
I try to hold her, but my hand passes through her like smoke.

Still, I try.