Hollow.

Tiny at first,

But it grew

As I learned how to

Lose you.

First your sternum, then your femur,

And carpal by carpal,

Each bone turned

To dust

And blew away.

But memories,

They’ll never be dust.

So as your skull,

Humerus, and scapula

Drift away,

My recollections

Are anchored and secure

Locked inside the bars of my ribcage,

With the key lost for good,

Held tightly by a spine you never had.

Life goes on,

My bones are strong,

Stronger than yours ever were.

So as you scatter

On the wind,

I’ll be here

Counting my thoughts and

Numbering bones.