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Jan 2013
Sleep, little girl, where the nerve endings died,
And pain no longer finds you.
In the sun’s thoughtless light your heels are too high
With your chest falling away from your body.
It’s on the edge between dreams and waking
The shore of feeling and thought
That those gentle storms kick and shake you.
Don’t you see it? Sitting wide
A hole with a mouth to swallow you.
It’s the place where the glass kept cutting and cutting,
Where fires burned and the salt ocean burned worse.
Memories forgot about it and they’ll forget you too,
In the place where all nerve endings died,
Where the little girl forgot she cried
And drowned without pain to alarm her.
Arlene Bozich
Written by
Arlene Bozich
1.2k
   Mikaila, Scott Biddulph and Md HUDA
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