Bare wrists
Dressed in red
Bands wrap
Around uncovered skin

Choking on pain
Scarlet pools
Baby blues
Purple bruise

Canvas arms
Circling colors
Bubbles gurgling
Clean cut

He would kiss better
every spot on her body,
promising that it would
make every mark heal

an then tell her that
her mouth was bruised,
so he had excuse to place
one last kiss on her waiting lips.

my baby exists when he wants to
leaving vitamin D outside my door
gives me kisses on my arteries
kisses my bruises even more

my baby gives flowers for breakfast
and claims they won’t ever bloom
he loves me, he loves me not
he speaks in glances across the room

my baby breaks my heart
my baby adores me so
my baby knows just the right spot
gotta let my baby go

I breathe in all shades of purple
and exhale in all shades of blue;
faded plums to cornflower petals—
a bruised kind of exchange
that makes you look up to the sky
and feel something for no reason.
A contusion I keep fresh for
whenever I let someone
close enough to press it.
And if the pain makes my skin
sing notes only my conscience can hear,
then I’ll write lyrics to match;
they'll say
*I’m alive.
I’m alive.
I’m alive.

I've been scratched and pinched and bruised
but none of those things came from you.

for all the times my consent didn't matter to you.
for all the times you told me that since we're in a relationship I should want to have *** with you.
for all the times I had to hide in the bathroom crying while looking at all the red marks and the bruises.
for all the nights I stayed up trying to catch my breath while you were sleeping beside me.
for all the times I cried during an act that was supposed to be intimate.
for all the times you grabbed me and said "please, baby, please? I love you"
for all the times you saw me crying because of the random man who tried to grab me on the streets.
for all the times I told you about my PTSD I suffered due to childhood ****** abuse.
for all the times you took advantage of me.
for all the times you hurt me, I am now going to conquer.

you have made me suffer through another type of abuse,
an abuse that many people don't realize real.
because of you, I suffered through domestic violence/marital ****.

I am not a victim, I am a survivor.

I’ve never
had a bruise
that lasted
more than the
amount of
time it took
for me to
forget how
it got there