Her body had no boundaries.
She drowned in it.
Couldn’t save herself.
He stuck her own head into it.
Her own flesh.
And she lost track of her own scent.
He’d open the door and let in the stench.
She didn’t have to be told his history.
He didn’t try hard to hide it.
He was convinced that he had fooled everybody for life.
Her body had given life.
And he did his best to suck it right out of her.
“Portrait of a Woman (Balia dei Medici)” by Paris Bordone (1500-1570)