I know its coming before I feel it,
and I am left bruised,
and forever bleeding,

and wherever you touch,
is a mixture of fire and ice,
flaming pain
only to lead to numbing cold.

I map out the tender areas,
painted with black and blue,
and my fingers
they barely skim surface.

Closing me eyes,
shutting out thought,
feeling only pain.
But I take it,
because I still have use of my hands,
and my eyes haven't swollen shut,
it only gets worse,
when there is no feeling and all I am is cold.

And after every fall you
become my prince charming,

you dance me around in circles,
while my hips move under your control,
but they are just parking spots for your hands,
hands that won't stay there long.

It's in those moments,
I worry about the next time,
but those thoughts are fleeting ,
it's so much effort to get through them now.