The skeleton visited last night in my dreams
It sat before me, strung out on coffee and laxatives
Apologizing yet again for the hurt it caused me.
This time, I hardly listened and felt only annoyance
At seeing it again, old and weak
No strength there that I could see.
It was dead and had no idea.
The skeleton laughed a few times about things we shared in the past
Like how fun it was to not eat when we drank
And how I always ended up with my head in the toilet
Swearing I would never drink again or begging god to kill me.
The skeleton and I
I sat upright before the skeleton, happy that I had a few curves
Happy that my belly was comfortable...not too full...not hungry
Or contorting inside like an angry cat, begging for a morsel.
I knew what the skeleton felt, because I was close to it once.
It smiled at me, but the smile never reached it's sunken eyes
And I knew that the skeleton hated me for being healthy.
Yet yearned for exactly that.
I watched the skeleton play it's game, or at least attempt to
But it's words were mere sounds, like waves on the ocean
I did not attempt to makes sense of them, but only listened to the rythmn.
Then, with a sigh, I stood.
Surprise passed the skeleton's ashen face.
Was I leaving? It asked.
I left a long time ago. I answered.