I am just a suitcase. The kind with two wheels that has to be pulled. Packed with blood and ribs. A liver. Heavy, impossible for one person to zip closed. There will be an extra fee at the airport.
The least essential organs are the ones that come in pairs. Kidneys and lungs. We think we need each other.
It’s easy to discard the weight of wanting. That vestigial feeling. Let it atrophy. Without it I am fifty pounds exactly. No additional charge.
They say you won’t even notice I’m gone.
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