His fingers stop just inches,
Beneath her chin,
Quivering,
Do you see her bruises?
No,
Not on skin,
But,
A mottled spirit,
A crushed soul,
Hurts more,
Than broken bones within,
Eyes that fill,
But do not drip,
Quietly quietly,
She tries to sleep,
Through the noises in her head,
Recorded echoes of him,
Telling her,
She is better off dead.
~Rei Shiori
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