women had wounded tongues
bite marks on the flesh beneath their powdered cheeks
jaws tight, temple tension
hunchbacked, heartbroken
bones growing smaller
flesh almighty
the skin turning grey
the mind, a decrepit tree piercing cobwebs
the body loses its soul
her face is falling out of her face
I hold it there under her cloudy chin
I hold it up
she’s returning to her fetal position
letting go
but I’m here
and I sit on my blue knees
hands holding her face
colours dripping from wet paint
she won’t exist anymore
memory holds her image
she cannot grow back into the skin
she let die
her wrinkles long
downwards
her eyes torn
upwards
I have been waiting
Croque-Melpomene 