No one had told her the phrases of the damned
burning through an extreme lightness of tattooed flesh,
bland, pale and as close to bloodless as life would allow.
She stared at the pile of bobbing rods which shimmered
and shifted to the rhythm of the surface they rested on,
sighing into what she thought was the last light of day.
"My favorite time...twilight"
only to find it was daybreak, where had the night gone?