Shedding

I shed myself.

Fist my clothes, so you could see me.

Then my skin, so you could see my beating heart.

Soon after came my eyes, so you could see the depth.

The way I thought, and the wells of salt underneath.

Later came the blood, filled with sadness.

Dark and streaming.

Last came my will.

To shed anymore.

To live.

I'd had enough.