Rue:

 "When Ember started lighting up with Red, 

 Her face became transparent. 

 Had I not heard the smoker crawling its way off the streets of her belly,

 And up through her esophagus, 

 I would have believed she had evaporated into thin air.

She ate pills like they were M&M's.

She said she liked being "multi-colored."

She said that to really know art, you had to experience something as beautiful

As hallucinations.

One hour before she succeeded at becoming Sylvia Plath,

Her stomach became charcoal, and she turned an inky black.

I couldn't look at her. I couldn't remember her like that.

She was freckles, and freckles, and freckles.

She was breath and soft skin.

I miss her flesh, and I miss her organs.

When all the breath left her body,

I inhaled it like smoke--

Trying to save some bit of her soul inside myself.

And I, like Anne Sexton,

Was the poet that lived."