There were stormclouds in her laughter
There was salt inside her smile
And she dressed up in disaster,
Though she’d never liked the style
She had bloodstains on her fingers
From the bite marks on her nails
And she wiped them off on pages
So they wouldn’t stain her sails
She had sunlight in her memory,
But the warmth was in her wake,
Going backward was delusion,
Going forward, a mistake
There were those who tried to reach her,
Called her back to seek the shore,
But she knew, without a compass
You cannot outrun the storm
And she could not sail her vessel
With her bleeding hands and heart
So she ripped out all the floorboards
And sank down into the dark.

– s. Clark