Twelve and here we are again.

You curl and put yourself to sleep.
Someone lays on your side
With salty tears to hide
testimony of the vows you did not keep.

With a stone, they say a woman’s
bestfriend is,
you asked for her hand and
sealed it with a kiss.

Fragrant flowers have faded
in to patched walls since.
The fabric of us dissolved
in an emotional rinse.

And you’ll get up again, the morning next
Only to put on your mask
Here you are, Gullible and meek.

You have pierced
your words right through.
I will just sit here
And bleed.


5 thoughts on “Bleeding

  1. Poetry is funny in that, the way the words fall upon the reader may be quite different from what the writer intended. I am sure that this is the case with me this morning. 🙂 Nonetheless, the last two stanzas speak to me personally, as I consider how those who hurt us also swear their own masks, hiding behind their own hurt/ baggage/ shame, and hurting others in the process. There is a tension between resolving the hurt that they cause and acknowledging how their own shortcomings need to be forgiven. Still…they leave souls in the wake of their own despair, hurting and broken…bleeding, as you say.

    Thanks for sharing. Painfully necessary.

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