This bruise on my hand is growing.
I can see it spreading to my other hand
To my arms
Shoulders
Up my neck
Down my chest
Down my stomach
Across my hips
Stretching the length of my legs
And ending at my feet

Who would think that's beautiful?
Who would want to touch someone that's
Dark purple
On the outside
Blue towards the middle
And yellow around the edges

No one
And I shouldn't expect them too

I hope there’s an absence
I hope there’s silence
Where there was once laughter

I hope the silence isn’t filled with anything
I hope it’s deafening
I hope you remember what was there

I hope when you try to drown it out
It doesn’t work
I hope the loudest music sounds like a whisper
I hope your thoughts run rampant in the middle of the night and you have to beg and plead with them to stop running off into the darkest parts of the woods and come back to the light.

Does that make me selfish?
Does that make me wrong?
Do I care?

No, because I shouldn’t be the only one
I hope I’m not the only one.