it takes the little blood left within
you to reconcile with the past...
You were holding hands with fear,
like she was a lover...
The past has been pressed
within pages, that only unfolds...
It’s the end of this blink, breath
second...
The night has rested
on her exhausted shoulder...
You learned writing on sand
at a very young age...
I
saw your...
Although
we both took a...
A sky full of clouds
imprisoned her soul...
Remember when you
do crash, don’t pick at your wounds...
the blue pigment is slithering
under your skin, or is it your blood...
your soul loses her posture as you
hunch to type the words you failed...