4.
whose shell is this?
this one that looks like mine but isn't?
this one that's more perfect now than im?
and neither at all
i thought Edward was perfect
the way he was
just that way
the way that he thought was so wrong
and so not
so, like i was, im
i couldn't have wanted him to be any way but the way he was
the only way i'd ever known him
the only way i loved him
but could he?
want me?
in another?
in this?
this way i am now?
that's just like the way he is?
could he love this?
would he still if he saw?
if he knew?
what i'd become?
he loved the human things about me
the alive
the sounds of me
my heart
my running and dancing blood
and the feel
those same things he could hear and others
more
he loved the temperature of me
my skin
the warmth of it
and the texture of me
the softness
even though it scared him
because the lightest touch of his not could leave a bruise on it
a mark
but he could do that without touching me at all
leave a mark
his
with a look or a word or a smile
he could change me
my sound
because he made my heart beat faster
and my pale
because he could turn it pink
reminding him everyday how alive i was
not that he needed reminding
he always knew it
and never wanted not to
hear it and feel it and see it
it's why i'm afraid instead of not now
because that alive he loved is gone
the warmth, the drum, and the hue of it
of me...
left me with my last breath
left me...
like he did
left me...
alone