300 Days of Writing
Day 5: Body
There’s nothing I crave more than fat.
A skeleton has no need for these, but even now, with the maggots and the mushrooms and the mealworms for company, I find there’s nothing I want more than a functioning body.
A body that can feel the wind. Skin that prickles in the cold or tingles at someone’s touch.
A tongue that can taste fermented ale, aged cheese, and sourdough bread. A mouth that salivates when my mind thinks of sugar.
A brain that fires synapses, little lightning sparks that send blood pumping through my veins and make my eyes dilate.
I want to smell your sweat, your seed, as my body takes you in and hosts a new being.
Let this skeletal woman bury her feelings in her womb. That warm watery place full of sacred life.
Life for a body that protected these bones, now too brittle to hold on. The marrow and the collagen have decomposed, rotted away until there is nothing left but my simple frame, forever sleeping in a wooden box I never wanted.
Inside the box, it’s dark, dark, dark. A suffocating feeling of closeness and yet, being utterly alone, without a body of my own to feel any comfort with.