Bruised.
Left and right, top and bottom,
Inside and out.

I survived that hellish tsunami of pain
that, flying like a 18-wheeler with cut brakes
on spiteful repeat
wrung my mind and emotions to alternating panic
and zombie-like numbness.

Funny how bruises blossom in different ways;
your betrayal, so deep, sends up saplings to sting me
at the most inopportune, unpredictable times.
I thought I was immune now,
Enough brushes against the anemone
sufficient tapering of the drugs of anger and regret
And I was sure,
sobbing alone,
in the bathtub,
  done.


.