Soul Case

Tattered, flimsy arms barely stuffed full of decaying exuberance, flattened out from long nights –
a heavy head turned inward, grinding glossy eyes into the pitted, lopsided casing of the stuffed animal shaped into a once unsullied Bear.

Dilated ebony pupils brimmed with mucky beige irises stare vacantly, set into a figure covered with sparse graying snippets of cotton fabricated to appear like pelage tarnished by her firmly seized hands, straining your material body into a distorted posture against her warm flesh, encasing an inflexible caged guardian bent like a clawed hand, the tips pointing inward towards the accelerated pulse; thud, thump, thud, thump, thud, thump 
rhythm motivates the muscular organ’s tremors toward the epidermis wrapper, in an anxious embrace around the stuffed, compressed Bear.

You sense the squeeze of her longing fingers, the salty liquid seeping from her left caruncle, then the right, saturating your blotchy cotton pelt with a continuous stream of convulsive gasps that being to settle into a rhythmic circulation, her thumb and pointer fingers massaging your withered fabric ears in a perpetual tempo; twiddle, twirl, twiddle, twirl, twiddle, twirl
until her saline droplets convert into brittle sighs, ending your private routine.

Tossing you aside, along the tawdry comforter adjacent to a momentarily vacant bed frame identical to the one she recently abandoned, her fleeting mortal warmth receding as you being to assume room temperature,
she arrives with the final summon,
the inky box to join the great majority, entombed underneath the strident box spring counting the seconds sealed in an eternity; tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock

until she reappears to eagerly disinter your remains.