lost count

I dare not speak,
another word should not be said
leapt too soon
easily could have been read
I've lost count
of what's unspoken

within reach
The last child for who's trust
he lied to breach
the one Eye stares
fire at will lusty dread

bled, bled, yes,
no more to bed.
and yet I am not dead.

I falter fast in kind,
yet flatter and stumble slow
wounds so fresh
feel the frost from winter's snow

so I seem bereft
in clumsy whispers
clocks are ticking simple
steady for the drifters

my skin swarms,
head swells-  my heart's aglow

no, no, I do not
wish to know.
and yet home I must go.