the hole is not as deep as it once was, skin filled with liquid
to press into and feet unable to stand.
these were the conditions that kept her alive
traded her feet for 3 more years
and even three years didn't cut it.
lacerating strands of marrow
and tendons.
she donated the beats of her heart
to science
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this poem reminds me of those paintings you used to do, that were trees made of lungs and hearts. in a good way.
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