Let's see how pretty those blue eyes can

(Stop. Wait. Feel for your heartbeat. Press your hands to the warmth of your cheeks, feel them soften with the perfection of your smile. Run your hands through your hair. You're alive.)

be. Be what you see in the sun, warm and shining and all seeing and all loving. Stop lamenting for just a

(She has moved on and on and on to more and more and more and it is still less than you.)

minute. In a minute the blood from your wrist will start to look like her hair, waves tapering into split ends, feathering. Don't panic yet it's

(Sweetheart, please don't cry. I can feel it across the **** carpet surface of my tired heart. I'm aching to soothe whatever shakes you.)

not over.