She tucks herself in deep, heavy linen.
Faith is nothing but a thread hanging onto hope.
Seconds are the limit it takes for thoughts to present.
Liquid of salt creeps out by the lids, red from strain.
The stabbing fight in her stomach, she holds.
Pounding heart as if to break free at last.

She leaves the secrets in the sheets.
A smile as bright, she wears on the streets.