What does your cross remember about me? There is no sea of forgetfulness that I can fathom your eyes setting upon as you look down at me. So I am asking what do you see?
They were my mistakes. You were there to pick me up through them. It was wrong to believe I could falter. I should have realized even solid rock has its limits.
This blood does not sink into the sand. It stays within my veins and stills me as you once have. My cross remembers the good.
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