I have a bruise to mark each memory
faded experiences, my tie-died vessels heal
hurriedly as a huddled leaf chasing a stream.

I have a bruise to mark moving
hip-forward, greeting our kitchen counter
first thing after threshold.

I have a bruise from stubbornness
we wrestled like chimps, my head
finding first impressions with tacky tiles,
your floor. You won our primitive match.

A bruise to mark the midnight hike,
I fell into the chaparral.
One to many beers, and a spin-tingling
fear of fallowing you up the mountain.
I slapped you for leaving me behind.

I have a bruise to mark our night,
when anger awoke arousal
Your thumb, your teeth, the main
suspects to my man made splotch.
A shower stinging stain trickled itself away
A fleshy fading peace sign.

I have a bruise from your discovery.
In a constructed pile of soil
You laid me down too *****
Stripping me of theatrical ties, temporary faces.
I willingly wove the canvas, for you
brave adventurer uncovered bruises.
The maps you didn't mark,
blacks and Blues you didn't write.
Paints that I lose so frequently,
like a child in a department store
that I can't forget my human fear,
Being Found.

But though you paint me purple,
break my veins like glow sticks,
leave me in the dark, and wrestle me
like a man,
You heal Me,
like rain to the grasses.
To feel again.

You crumpled contracted walls
surrounding my ability in
obtaining adventure, and your
Happy Bruises.