I remember it all as The 1975 played
Eyes dancing in the smoke of your wilted cigarette
Tangled in the bed comforter
Our lips pressed together
Carving novels from the sweep of your eyelashes
Your hand on my leg sending lightning through my bloodstream
Kneading contained desire into new shapes
Though room was frigid  
I could feel my cheeks getting crimson and heated
As we pressed closer
Skin to skin
Whispering unspoken truths through laced fingers
My lipstick wore off on your neck
Around the bruises I left
Time waving goodbye as the sun slowly rose

i pull away in the nick of time
right before he captures his lips with mine
he grabs my shoulders
my meekness making him bolder
and as i struggle he pulls me in closer
as if this changes the fact that this is part of an older
struggle for dominance
but aware of an audience
i shrug out of his violent embrace
as his angry fingers try to erase
my fear of his anger
my fear that he will linger
in this ferocious dispute
of me trying to escape you
bruises bloom as you glide your hand down my arm
as you make everyone forget with your charm
bruises bloom in my heart
as your words tear me apart
bruises bloom in my mind
as you blind
the ones that could mend
the bruises you tend
like a garden of blue green
roses

I'm sorry your hands had to leave bruises on my skin
and that my love breaks your ribs.

I'm sorry for the bruises I made in your heart
and for the lies I told with the same lips you tasted.

I'm sorry for the bruises I bore in my heart
and for the storm I brought to your mind.

I'm sorry for the bruises I left in your life,
and made you see my chaos with your eyes.

I'm sorry for the bruises made from holding onto you too tight,
and for the hate that filled your lungs.

I'm sorry for the bruises I can't erase
I'm sorry for the bruises old scars replaced.

I'm sorry for the bruises my fingertips left
I'm sorry for the bruises my lips marked on yours

I'm sorry for the bruises on your wrists with my handprints
I'm sorry for the bruises that took your breath away.

I'm sorry for the bruises.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
hatchlings aren't able to fly,
though they think they are.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
in order to live
and to love,
part of me had to die.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i would never be
as beautiful or as perfect
as the dove.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i was worthless,
and if i wanted something,
i had to work for it.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
you were protecting me
from the outside world.
i didn't realize i was suffering.


my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i couldn't trust anyone,
there were predators all around,
and when it rained, it poured.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
i told myself that
it was time to fly.
oh, it hurt, but still,
your words were never as soft as the ground.

Honey-coloured skin
Covering
Over-used bones and
Abused muscles
That have seen the inside
Of blisters
And bruises, hidden beneath
Mismatched, jarring wool
And tight, black
Material that only just
Manages to contain her.

Covered in scratches
Covered in scrapes
Drowning in wounds
That eternally ache

To the crushing of bones
when you implode;
my stubborn skull
was no match for the concrete.

I flew face first-
now I am ground into dirt,
or the dirt is ground into me
wherever I’m bleeding.


I can’t clean these wounds sober.
this girl?
you won't know her.

my jaw is popping-
is there any chance of that stopping soon?
The moon is closing in on the sun,
threatening to collide
and I've grown wearing of hiding in the night.
I'd just like some
medical attention.

My knees,
my knees...
I forgot to mention they're all ******;
I don't have the money to call off
for a few days.

can I sleep on my face?
my pain is evidence of my shame-
these wounds just my physical disgrace.

I'll regain coherency
at a quarter till three
with a swollen, puffy face
and vinegar in my veins.

just add it to the list
of blundering strains
maybe some time in the future
I’ll be able to worry about it again.

it never ends.

my new lamp, shattered
my clean sheets
dirtied and tattered.

my left ear is buzzing-
everything has gone fuzzy
and my head is numb and
throbbing.

maybe I’ll sleep well tonight,
and my nightmares will find me
without any fight left
in my dried out bones
and pseudo studio home.

c.m.
draft/original: 8.5.14
posted: 1.7.15
revision/edit: 1.8.15

There is a difference between being right and being right. There's a difference between you and me, between this knife in my hand and the fist of yours. There's a difference between this bruise and that bruise, between this scar and that scar, between your promises and mine.
Remember when you said you were a man of your word?