The Final Emptying

She has gleaned the bare root of her captive. Soggy dressings fall away, dissolve on calloused feet. No point in changing these regretful bindings now. He tells her he understands, that he once loved her. She is beneath his nails, in his mouth, between his teeth. Rubber tubing snakes from his torso, head, and neck. Pushing out the slow but steady drip of his pollution. Seven enamel bowls are full of him and need emptying. She wonders how this room looks to him. Final? Endless? He asks to be turned, says his right side has gone numb. She pushes a moist shoulder, and he flops squid-like onto his back. Touching him brings sour acid bubbling into her throat. These walls will see his last hour, his ultimate reflection. It has been one month to the day since they first saw each other. She will quietly count him down back to that night. Back to his first steps towards her. She will watch the slow stream of him until he gradually drains away. Down to the dregs, down to residue, down to the beginning.