never, pt. 2

never quite

 have grasped 

the lines her mind 

 had designed or 

the time that passed 

 between her eyes or

hands between her thighs

 or how she melts under 

the harsh thunder. 

never understood

how quiet days 

have passed 

. 

when the red

tide strikes at 3

moon overhead 

flushing the sea of blood

purged of corrosions of lead

she whispers to

no one forgot of 

the belongings she’d accrue

or the ringing ringdove.