My Poetry, Short Stories

Death and Decaying.

First, she lost the waves of strawberry blonde that ended at her waist. Then she lost her mouthwatering skin, a bright and throbbing red like a bed of ripe and ready strawberries in a strawberry field. She used to have a tasty, round figure that everyone would drool over, but now she’s dry, with off-black skin that’s like a collision between sunshine, and black mold. And she wears the sole of every treading shoe on her thin skin. She used to be such a prize that people were paying for a tease or taste of her. Now that she’s lost her looks, no one cares about the people she’s met, the places she’s been, the cars she’s rode in, the fights over her, the mouths she’s been in, or the endearing whispers about her. She’s just an invisible stain to them now– a spat out, tasteless lump of salty clay. A useless, dull lump of DNA. She has no name, and no clothes, and no family, and no help, and no contentment. She knew she would expire in seven days, but that didn’t make the process any less dreadful. She craved to go back in time and devour the life of each and every roommate she had in that box to extend her own. Too late. She’s forced to be a greasy, sticky gum stain on a slab of cement for eternity, yet she still found happiness in the end…

And the lone satisfaction she had about dying is knowing that everyone else will eventually experience it too.

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