she is no longer human
writhing, shouting, feeling
human
past

i look at her and i see paint
windswept hair sticking to muddied lips
flushed cheeks over pale skin
gilded lids
blink

she is canvas
heavy and sagging
brushstrokes
this way and that
covered

i listen to her and i hear nothing
swirling silence
surrounding stereo sound
breathing into doubting ears
hidden

she is no longer awake
swimming, sighing
through cold water
rough, splintered waves of memory
slap her briefly
before the current pulls her under again
and the rocks onshore call out
faintly
to her floating body
as she lies beneath a blue sky
and lets the water move her downstream
life waves weakly from the bridge
ignored

the mirror tells me i am human
unpainted
loud and awake
but she recognizes the lies
she has learned
to ignore them