At the bay.

The sky has turned orange,

light leaking through the clouds,

the waves no longer calm,

people retreating to their homes.

Yet here I lie, sprawled in the sand,

rotting to the core, bile at my lips,

my skin peeling, my mind half-eaten,

a smile still carved on my face.

All of me remains, though I wish the opposite,

my soul long gone, my insides ablaze,

my eyes empty, glassy,

mirroring the evening’s dying glaze.

Blood coats my body, not by choice,

while he walks away, not a scratch in sight.

after all, he got just what he wanted,

and I’m left alone to face what’s left.

Miserable, alone, broken.

Is this… is this how I perish?

I can’t help but wonder

if it ever crossed his mind,

that I’m human, not just a doll

before he left me behind.

I wonder, as ants begin to crawl over me,

these hands that once held, that once gave warmth,

now scarred only by tears and pity,

I pray not to live.

The feeling claws through me,

turning me inside out,

heart ripped open, fists clenched tight,

the sea itself drying into drought.

The sun has set, night seeps in,

I watch as a crab crawls close, pinching at my skin,

‘At least,’ I laugh, choking on breath,

‘I’m not as alone as I think.’

I’m sorry I ever dreamed,

to have hoped and loved, only to have sinned.

For I know, in the end,

all that mattered,

was what I was wearing.