Sunken,
pulsing black and blue.
It resides under
weak bones that ache
to be seen through
paper thin skin.
It has it's moments.
Blossoms beautiful flower's
into the ones it sees the pain it feels.
It has it's roots still there,
the young one you knew before.
The before it treated
every guy with the same make and model,
the way it treated you.
It's scarred and grotesque from
the way it won't trust anyone,
from the way it made you feel.
Is it worth to say the tears
you almost shed left
open, fleshy wounds on it?

I see the yellows and the reds,
is green still your favorite?
Blues shine brightly around it.
Could you have made it withstand time?
Would you have imagined the arm wrapped around it?
Sitting comfortably together,
would you have loved
the sound of my laugh,
seeping from around my hand,
echoing off the walls?
The walls with all the colors shinning on.