Ghosts

How many poems have compared love and loss
To losing limbs, to broken body parts?
Too many in this lifetime

I think at one point or another
We’ve all been guilty of this
Romanticizing our bodies

Turning tears into diamonds
Hearts into suitcases
Filled with other people’s ghosts

Turning bones into sugar that easily crumbles
Skin into tinder, sparking fire
Fingers into daggers

But how many times have we hated
Our bodies, hated even looking at it
Does the same go, then,
With looking at loss and love?

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