You were broken when I met you.
I didn't realize the extent.
When I pulled back from our embrace,
I was covered in blood...both yours and mine.
Yours from previous violence,
and mine from your jagged edges.
You could provide no treatment,
no care or sutures for either of our wounds,
and I was unable to stop the bleeding,
untrained in that kind of repair.
I bled for a long time.
Still bleeding, if I'm honest.
I've kept it undercover,
masked with bandages and gauze.
I've applied pressure, but it remains.
The blood still trickles. The pain persists.
I don't know if your injuries have healed,
as our damages carried us apart.
Too weak to reach out, I can only wonder.
Can only ask myself the questions,
lament the answers I've realized are true,
and carry on with the regret.
These wounds are overdue to be closed.
I think it's time I learned to sew.
To finally stop the bleeding.