Anatomy

When they are not being held up and turned about and pointed out, the skull rests heavy on the letters my friends have written me. A striking paperweight with their empty orbits, gaping sinuses and perfectly aligned teeth biting down into lines of affection. Their face has sallowed with time, deep arches tired from being misnamed. All the crevices where vessels would have pumped and nerves fired, lie empty.

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Anatomy

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