They said, I should pretend that she was sleeping
That dying wasn't so bad
And I should have faith,
Hope,
That she would wake up
To cradle me in her arms again
But she didn't.
The tubes crawling under her skin
Only grew in numbers.
This would be her fight
Struggling by herself
Her foes outnumbering her
Slithering down her throat
Suffocating her,
They make her breathe
Gliding under her soft skin,
They are nourishing her
They are inside of her!
She looks like life has almost left her,
And now, the snakes suck out the last of all that is her
Her warmth
Her softness
Her plumpness
They say it isn’t so
But I am not blind
They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed limbo