BODY MARKS

I no longer sleep,

In the chalky outline where you lay.

Have stopped clutching the rubber heart,

That gives none of your warmth.

Your ghost hears no more apologies,

Before I fade to black.

I bin your hair,

Suck up your fleshy powder,

Turn away from initials encircled,

by smudged-out hearts,

daubed months ago on misted windows.

You are the wound that has healed,

But the sickness I crave.