Autopsy

A white sheet covers a pale white face, a lifeless body on a cold metal table is delacately placed. Under the table s a bucket made of tin that slowly fills with a liquid the color of skin. The liquid drips directly off of her body like thick acrylic paint or moistened putty. It pulls all life and color away, leaving the skin a dull shade of grey. Her eyes start to swell with tears of the purest color of blue. True blue pigment starts to drain like water from a well her dull grey body lies so perfectly still, with no spark of like, without want or will. Her skin carefully cut above place of her heart. Not one thing to find but a question or thought. A wonder of how she didn’t completely fall apart. There is no heart, instead a note to a former love, it gives away the deed to her heart. Never was returned to the place of own. Thread and needle hide a hole, but only the first cut. Break the bone made to protect the odly colored shrivled flesh. Hear the crack, watch it splinter in between glove covered fingers. An organ once filled now empty. The holder of the missing heart also holds her breath. Gone long before her dull grey body fell to rest. The spindle of thick black thread unravels a line. A needle pulled to sew in careful time. The second cut is closed up. Pulled apart with gentile ease the third cut is one that quickly bleeds. A thick red stain seeps across the table, slowly drips and leaves a splatter. Underneath the thick red stain placed is an organ bulging like its thriving with pain. Pushing and prauding, the tissue breaks, splashes of color explode from inside. Not giving any clue to what else is to find. Color was mistaken, butterflies the real. Normally an emotion to feel. The holder of the heart and breath took but as well he left a true metaphor that she felt so real. A thin liquid ash coats the flesh, deteriorating. The real emotion, study the body, the lifeless face that is carved with sadness like invisible lace. Cold hands clutched together so tightly that the fear of letting go is woven between the gripped fingers so visibly. Shiny eyes eaper above in the glass peering down on the actions as time will slowly pass. His breath is held deep in his chest and in his hand another breath. Pounding the bone that protects, his heart beats without rest. Gripping his pocket beneath his hand to hold the beating still, the heart replaced by the one last will, the deed. Sweat slips off the brow when a sudden chill stings his skin. Like smoke in his ear, the last voice she’ll let him hear. Her soft noise drifts through.   You took my breath with every kiss, with every word, of what I’ll miss. I signed the deed, I gave you the one thing my body needs. Everything I gave to you, only because I fell in love with you.   Tears streak down the soft skin, the heart held in hand stops its beat, breath slips across fingertips.