she bleeds "on the"

ever a more soft looking stare, it is the sun who awakes you

when it drops, is setting somewhere west of here that still does not shift in a direction toward but away, then it is that you come alive, you walk out from behind, to be seen

* of those only who hold in reverent eyes the bowing "thank you" for "i do see" & somewhere in there, "i do not expect to ever see again" and so do

you (this is a different you), have eyes in the back of your head, an arm that extends far beyond your own, when you are in bed at night you visit me, when you are away, you are with me, to come behind in form that holds and kisses my neck, and yet you could walk right through me but do not

you (this is also a different you) are walking toward, and it is not so slowly anymore, they told me where i would find you, and i did, they told me to wait with you, and i did, to sit beside, so i sat, and then it became a time of telling for you to walk thinning in the tide, i watched from afar, watched you grow, watched how it scared you but that you knew you could do it, i held your hand from afar, i was never to leave, only to turn away at times, and you came back, and so again i washed my hands

and i watched the child grow.

& now she bleeds "on the"

she bleeds "on"

bleeding on

bleeding "on the"

"on the" she bleeds

is bleeding

she, bleeding, bends down, and does not ever come to know that to do so is a standing up, and a never again the same,

she is never again the same as "she bleeds on," bleeding

copyright 2018 ⓒ / forrest gallagher