Bruise
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Roses are black,
Violets are blue,
Like the hue of my skin
Since I got stuck on you.
Your soul is still black,
My heart is still blue,
But I got away,
I hope they do too.
I should have seen the signs; I was so naive.
There was no need to read between the lines; everything you said I believed.
“Because I love you,” that’s what you said.
His knee looked as if someone painted blood on him,
Gangly and nearly broken, Craig lifted his bad knee
And started down the train tracks, trying to race
Before his mother got home
My finger tips, cold
Touch bare chest
My heart beat, loud
Frozen in time
Arms grabbed me, forcfully
I had no choice
I looked away, tears
Blurred my vision
Black, purple, and blue dents,
keepers of the memories and events
that orate a tale of the ego held within.
Each contusion a badge of honor and strength–the true gold metals of life.
