post mortem

 everything is so foreign to me

my own body seems to crumble at my touch,

it shys away from my fingertips 

like a blossoming flower that cranes its neck

away from the shadows. 

i don’t want to touch myself,

to see myself. 

i hardly even feel my own anymore. 

you’ve possessed me

with no intention of letting go.

-c.s-m