Little bugs crawl inside my skin
Covering my arms to my fingertips,
My painted toes up my legs, to my central button.
My pale, squalid shade only indicates
The vivid, flooding unconscious memories
Leading to that beating organ, keeping me alive
Barely. I laugh and squeal, without her joy
Battling these visions before my infected green-eyed
Oracles. Wondering, always wondering.
Our four-year-old selves, my lost innocence
Hers still unbroken, undamaged, whole
Still protected. Mine never defended
Initially infected, never my choice