mistake?

She sits.
She stares.
She doubts.
She doubts her doubts.
Red rings circle sage green eyes.
Her hand lies deep in one pocket
Tracing the sleek lines of that
Evil black box.
It lies still.
Still as the dead beat of her heart.
That shriveled up organ that sits in her chest.
It betrays her any chance it gets.

She stands.
If only for a little while.
She paces.
She calms.
She doubts again.
How can something dead and shriveled
Ache so badly?