Hollow Bones

Photo by Andreea Popa on Unsplash

I run though the hollows of my bones, 
looking for something to fix.

Yet all I find are 
empty corridors
and the echos 
of my footsteps left behind.

There is nothing to fix here,
and so I gather my bones
and lay them out one by one.

For the last time I remember
what it is like to feel my bones
from cortex to precious marrow.

Streams of liquid gold 
trickling through my bones.

Like honey dripping 
from honeycomb.

I am reminded that 
endings too can be sweet.

And as I dance with death,
I begin to lay my bones to rest.