serves: one (because you'll probably die alone)

difficulty: simple, but overthink it anyway

ingredients:
one cup anxiety
an ounce of depression
a splash of paranoia
a dash of deflection
a lack of concentration
the fear of rejection
garnish with mood swings
a side of obsession

served: on the rocks
(shaken, not stirred)

instructions: add tequila and drink until symptoms subside

the initial impact
the ruptured vessels
crying crimson
pooling up underneath the surface of your
fragile flesh
soft, breakable unlike the iron
that flows through you

then a swell
of black and blue
of violent violets
a nebula to remind you that you
                                                          are not invincible
                                                          are not invulnerable
                                                          will one day turn to dust,
a star of lost oxygen
tender to the touch

then the healing
a green gradation
yellowed edges
the swelling going down
the knowledge that nothing is permanent        

that even your bruises pale
even your blood decays
even the galaxy imprinted on your skin can explode, collapse,
lost infinitely in infinity

the knowledge that even as you are getting better,
you are fading like the bruise
that once stained your skin