Human After All

Human After All

Heartbeats turn to whispered murmurs,
heaving breaths to nothing but lies.
She’s a beauty wrapped in bones and skin,
just something to keep the organs in.
Delicate hands, birdlike in their delicacy,
legs long and capable of covering miles.
Her eyes are the deepest colors of May,
just something to keep the flames at bay.
Her body is fragile and broken anew,
lying motionless beneath the autumn leaves.
Her lips are cold, blue and thin,
just something to keep her truth within.
The branches scratch the august sky,
scattering crisp leaves across the ground.
She is nothing but bones and skin,
just something to keep the organs in.
Her hands, her eyes, her body, her lips,
she is nothing but legs and hips,
the splay of her fingers
and the curve of her ribs.
She is nothing but bones, blood,
and skin.