there you are ever so elusive little girl in marching boots eyes full of emotions jaded and dry your face long hair going it’s own way and your lips couching words hardly ever spoken what happened to you can you tell me anything or do you assume i already know the pillow the dark room the old narrow bed sheets scratching and pricking like thorns and when it was over the negative processed in the infinite dark rooms of our mind days became stages of distortion where actors die to live but you exit right all the time the night’s cusp on your worried face the wider you smile the deeper the pain snapshot smile snapshot cry snapshot deny