The red pour warm inside
Leave invisible tracks across my pale flesh
The heart inside quails
As though I had been struck
And struck again.
She does not watch as I cry out
Helpless again
Hours months years piled up
Stone upon slippery stone
A friend advises
A father chastises
When I express the words that sometimes accompany
The agony of sinking.
But she does not look
Intent on spinning the careless web
Of her future
Like droplets of water
Thrown up from the ocean
Against a darkening sky
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