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41
POSTMORTEM APPETITE
<p>When I go to rest,</p><p>and the earth finally mistakes me for its own,</p><p>when six feet of silence</p><p>becomes the loudest room I've ever lived in,</p><p><br/></p><p>let the worms come.</p><p><br/></p><p>They'll arrive punctual,</p><p>dressed in blind hunger,</p><p>doing what the living always rehearsed</p><p>with cleaner hands.</p><p><br/></p><p>They'll gnaw through memory,</p><p>through bone,</p><p>through every lie my body once called permanence.</p><p><br/></p><p>But when they find my heart,</p><p>they'll pause.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not out of mercy.</p><p>Nature has never suffered that disease.</p><p><br/></p><p>They'll taste you.</p><p><br/></p><p>A bitterness that never learned to rot.</p><p>A sweetness sharpened into a blade.</p><p>Love,</p><p>aged into something even death</p><p>couldn't stomach.</p><p><br/></p><p>How unfortunate for them.</p><p><br/></p><p>They expected flesh.</p><p>Instead they inherited an obsession.</p><p><br/></p><p>Perhaps they'll spit it out.</p><p>Perhaps they'll devour it anyway.</p><p>Everything hungry eventually mistakes poison</p><p>for a feast.</p><p><br/></p><p>It's almost funny.</p><p><br/></p><p>You spent so long trying not to belong to me,</p><p>yet the only organ death couldn't bleach</p><p>still carries your fingerprints</p><p>like an unpaid debt.</p><p><br/></p><p>The grave is an efficient archivist.</p><p><br/></p><p>It buries names,</p><p>erases faces,</p><p>files every promise beneath anonymous dirt.</p><p><br/></p><p>Yet somehow,</p><p>you remain the stain</p><p>even decomposition refuses to wash away.</p><p><br/></p><p>Imagine that.</p><p><br/></p><p>I finally become edible,</p><p>and the only thing the insects cannot digest</p><p>is you.</p><p><br/></p><p>What a cruel recipe.</p><p><br/></p><p>When I was alive,</p><p>I was dying</p><p>for your love.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now that I'm dead,</p><p>your love has discovered</p><p>its only talent:</p><p><br/></p><p>preserving the corpse</p><p>it refused to save.</p><p><br/></p><p>So the worms circle,</p><p>confused.</p><p><br/></p><p>Decay reaches my skin</p><p>but starves at my chest.</p><p><br/></p><p>Your absence embalmed me</p><p>better than affection ever could.</p><p><br/></p><p>The irony is exquisite.</p><p><br/></p><p>I begged your love</p><p>to keep me alive.</p><p><br/></p><p>Instead,</p><p>it chose a far cheaper miracle.</p><p><br/></p><p>It preserved me</p><p>long after life</p><p>had already packed its bags.</p><p><br/></p><p>Even my corpse</p><p>has become your longest relationship.</p><p><br/></p><p>Long after I had the decency</p><p>to stop breathing.</p>
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