I asked a six year old
What she thought love was
And her response was
Simple
She told me that
“Love is coloring outside the lines,
Because no matter what,
They will always love
Your drawing”
And her answer was simple but
It kept me awake at night
Because I never showed you the deep
Purples that bruised my thoughts
And the black scribbles that were
Supposed to be organized
But instead went everywhere
And the painful reds
followed by pale pinks
Because I began to believe
That a six year old knew more
About love than
Me

You tell me about the bruise you got today
How even though you carefully avoided him
His pleading words started nipping at your toes
Like a new puppy
At first it sounds like a good idea but once you take that little bundle of joy  home it will turn into the Tasmanian devil and destroys everything in its path
But you wouldn't know
On the outside you love dogs
But deep down inside you're afraid
You've told me
The tears swimming in your eyes
Threatening at any second to defy you

You are not perfect
We are all made of deformities
Of awkward angles
Puzzle pieces
So that one day we can find our match

Love is a battlefield
Full of scars and bruises
The blue turning into a deep purple before it can get better
It's so hard to not step on the land mines of emotion
The ***** traps of hatred
But you have a shield
A bullet proof vest that will block you from those fears
But it can only withstand so much

Permanent bruises on my legs
(I'm a peach),
but I don't mind them.
Reminding me when I'm alone,
(that I wasn't)-
you left me sweet thumb-sized poems.

You've always loved bruises

and now I know why,

you loved them because they were just like you
purple and green
yellow and blue

they hurt,
just like you.
and they remind a person to feel
just like you always reminded me to.

I was a dare devil,
I always raised the level,
I got bruises and scars,
But that didn't stop me from going bizarre

I would jump and skate,
But it wasn't my fate,
I have to find something else to do,
Before I don't have clue
© Sasha Morales

Constantly here
but never at my current location
galaxies away in my mind's endless space
lost
with no intent to be found
acknowledging your absence
but refusing to excuse it
physically,
everything's fine
inside, rage the emotional bruises

They say that a person's heart
is the same size as their fist
but when you said I love you it hit
harder than your hand ever did
and I may have two black eyes
but yours are the color of fresh cut grass
and your heart must beat faster
than a hummingbird's wings
because your fist moved like
the needle of a sewing machine on my skin
but I was the one stitching myself back up
and I am covered in bruises
shaped like the hand I used to hold
but they will never hurt as much as
the last time I felt your pulse