He loved his bones.
The way they never asked too much of him
or protested his requests.
There was nothing superfluous in their design;
simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.
They were spry, robust
ready to take on the world with
sharp and fluid motions.
His bones were not brittle like she was.
Not so breakable or frail,
not so expendable.
They didn't bend under pressure
or fracture under stress.
He loved his bones -
their ivory purity eased his soul -
and he was proud of the way
they held everything together
She knew one day he'd stomp this
old flame out, long before 'death do us part.'
Cremation had never been part of the plan.