Carved

A well polished blade
razored ribs
lurking below the pale
Inhale, collapse and hold.
Beauty's in the details
fine lines and parallels,
that run, tangled ribbons
in a shadowcast design.
Ana was yesterday
and is still perhaps, tomorrow.
Every moment sculpting
scraping away the excess
of shame and guilt
Between my ribs she gave me,
a hallow sort of place.
Ana's blade was carving,
And from her bones she built
a puppet out of me