You ripped the organs from my body:
The flesh curls back, trying to heal, But my skin still yearns for you;
my rib-cage gapes open, and mourns the loss of lungs.
The decay begins, and maggots feed On thoughts of you that rot inside.
Open wide: They burn the fat and melt the bone:
A heart pumping tar with more thick, black food for parasites.
I am a parasite.
‘what’s mine is yours’: you take it all, and the remains feed on me.
Poem: Isla Cowan
Illustration: Hugo Sequeira
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