that clot in her head

Shoes lacing,

hearts racing

Long corridors,

 quick feet,

souls dragging

Carpets of deep blue,

Doors of pale blue,

slamming

All blue

Sounds beeping, machines weeping…

lines jumping, air pumping…

“So small in her bed”

Few words,

three small words,

over and over.  

final kiss.

A cold forehead.

Phones ringing,

Tears rolling,

tea stirring…

That clot in her head

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