I’m a mausoleum housing what could have been, a neglected morgue piling on all the bodies I used to be. 

A trail of dirt leads to the catacombs where any hint of nirvana is left to rot. But the graves have been dug up. Ghosts haunt dull emerald hallways and sulk atop winding staircases. 

A ruptured mirror poses before me. I don’t recognize who gazes back. 

Grime and pity stain the floorboards. Spiders tiptoe into frail webs held together by my selfishness, mocking me. Shadows peak in from their twilight. I can’t see them clearly but can feel their static on my skin and hear their whispers within the walls.

Inside this faint wasteland, I hover over the woman I love most. Her dreary eyes watch me climb into the cradle beside her. With heavy hands, I try to cling to her. But still in death she scorns me. 

I’ve longed to resurrect the part of me that’s withered away, only to find her decaying in front of me. I don’t have the heart to confess what I’ve known all along. 

That there’s no returning to who I once was. 

Her body is all that’s left.