It was once something beautiful.

The body itself used to be treated as a temple.

The outside of it had a dark chocolate, polished wood glow.

The inside was dainty, an antique. It was priceless.

So priceless in fact, that price tags fled when placed upon it.

Glaciers of a peppered colored skin tone dripped on the outside.

The delicate body was once a gold mine.

The lips upon the face, sweeter than fresh squeezed lemonade.

The body from the front, nothing short of concave.

It was loved more than anything. The teeth were that of ivory.

The body was a blessing within a cursed place.

It was so pure that icy whites, shadowed their face in a gray disgrace.

So original that a re make could not imitate.

The scent of the body could not be bottled up nor put on display.

For such an aroma would be considered an addictive drug.

The outside was perfected, the inside created in love.

The blood within it swam as though to race to gold pendants.

Even the last to arrive was satisfied with last place.

By title it was a lost, to be within the body, felt like 1st place.

The mind was wondrous, so wondrous that Alice would have never awakened.

It was saturated with intelligence, dried with confidence, and drenched again by creation.

The body, so untouchable, its own hands felt dislocated.

Much like everything in life, the body became outdated.

Sixty one years of being beautifully flawless.

The fact is that heaven was restless.

How much longer did the angels have to be so far from perfection?

It had been sixty one years. Sixty one years of separation.

The body was tired of being complacent.

It was back and forth pacing, constantly contemplating its temporal location.

Finally the day came that the body gained the courage to leave.

That day, upon its departure, that body took a piece of me.