passion and dust

We ached for each other  
with the fervency of cannibals  
and devoured the things  
that made us beautiful  
 
All I have now are my bones  
but they’re turning to dust  
and soon no trace of me will remain  
 
I’ve been killing myself  
for no good reason  
beyond love and lust  
and the illusion  
that I am meant for more  
than aloneness  
 
Because I don’t need to be alone  
to feel the ghost of you  
brush past the ghost of me   
with no feeling left in our breaths  
 
We ached for each other  
with the fervency of cannibals  
and in the end  
left nothing but corpses behind  
 
© Indie Adams 2018