i
here's the bed she lies in
the sheets might as well be snow
she's so cold
the heat disperses above her
the ceiling blankly accepts it
she sinks clean as a stone

   ii
when she wakes there's a scar
where a breast used to be
she shows it to me
excoriated and raw
her eyes shine
behind a dam of tears

   iii
when we cross the street
she holds onto my hand
as if I was ten again
and things were still to happen
 

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