in pools of blood her claws collect, ripped from her hands when i tore away and i drained for awhile when i collapsed on the floor, applying pressure, blanking out occassionally. the streams move in a current across the floor to the corner of lowest elevation, and the residue of how she tried to hold onto me is all that's left of her. you see, she might as well have died, i moved like a shadow away that night to a place far away, a place in my mind where her pin-shooting eyes can't look at me anymore. so to me she might as well be a ghost floating across my path from time to time she's as good as a memory to me, a scar in my skin where she dug while i ripped away. and those claws are just reminders that the animal is healing, waiting to chase me again when the energy wells up and her mind can concoct an alternative scheme. so i glance at the ghost then avert my eyes each time that it passes in front of my life i've got better things now, things that dont hurt that dont scrape that dont burn that dont poison or rip me empty.