My skeleton

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Do I ever contemplate what my skeleton would look like?
Yes, I do, and if I could see the resemblance of me in it,
without the meat,
tenderly tracing my skull’s sutures;
the story it tells of combustible youth;
Examine the dents
in both my shin bones,
and summer crushes left on the back of orbitals;
the remains of love stuck to my sweet tooth.