when they stepped inside her chest, they robbed her tomb, uncovering a crypt filled with gold, ambition, kindness, and a longing to be liked.
the ascendancy of her scattering sickening was getting ready to defuse.
she was moldered, a delegate declining, taking space, and blistering.
they beg her to forget about it but the soil that they dug up is still lodged in her fingernails shifting and adapting to her loss.