This was more important than other flesh moments
on his body. It deserved a place all its own
in his skin, because it did not
belong with other events, because it had
such a different theme. Death is
decidedly utterly unavoidable,
like an oil change or check-up.
He tends to mark
events under his flesh
taking mental notes, because he cannot
submerge in remembrance, because he must
drown inside himself.
His living body wears her
dead body like a necklace,
neck in tact.
When she died her held her this way:
gripping like a broom handle, snapping
the structure into two, structures
beneath the skin, ravaged, he had
killed her. Cutting her open, stuffing
spewing onto the floor.

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