Still of You

I see the words upon 
the page, and I'm drawn 
to your pain as if I can 
fully embrace it 
under my skin,
in my heart and make
it somehow different.

Yet part of me knows 
I can't, knows I won't and 
still I keep at it - a fruitless attempt 
at creating something out 
of everything that you resist.

I know your blood. I know 
there's pain and it twists right 
through the tender edifice
still of you and I hear the words 
long ago uttered of me, the one 
searching endlessly for something 
she really knew nothing about.