Behind a screen, ultraviolet
penetrated only pale exposure,
could not reach her world beyond
dark glass where destruction
and secrets did not spider
across wall or ceiling.
Still, she would not talk of them,
how their brush-tip regularity
repelled sleep, made waking cruel.
Days crawled, rest-less, marked
only by feint sun-blind myths
less brutal than real life.
Beyond shivers no-one penetrated
hers, where love retains shy meaning.
Still, she cannot speak of this.