The worn flesh upon her brittle bones, only weighed her down. Without it, her skeleton now breathes, a whistle heard from the cracks and crevices in the bone. It sings.
Her eyes, now useless to her mortal body. With a silver spoon, she moves them... out of the way. Her head, so heavy. What piece which is left, would be the mind.
Hours pass, but finally she is done. She is empty, joyful. Her veins, law out across the floor. Her eyes, simply an accessory for her now. The tendons, beautiful beautiful strings. A skillful jeweler, she was. Wraps of skin, laid under her new piece.
She adorns her newfound beauty. The breeze whistles through her tender bones. She dazzled the bugs, as they dance around her. The birds, they fly. Swooping down, they remove more pieces of her. She had pleased her conscience, now she may fit into that gorgeous, flowing dress her husband once mocked her for. She danced, danced, to the resonance of the music her ribs played. She danced, until she couldn't anymore. A corpse, she lies. The teeth sewn into her necklace, glistening under the moonlight, which shined so through the trees. Until she and her dementia lay at rest.
Beautiful, she is.
