A broken leg, open fracture -
All the pain like a price for rapture.
The sweetness festered, feverish, ill,
After the feast, came the bill.
Just like that, heartbreak followed,
Once giddy love left black and hollowed.
But that was months ago, or years,
No fresh cut in my flesh sears.
Time moved in to mend the break,
Agony now dulled to ache.
A bone healed the wrong way, free,
Crooked branch of a poison tree.
And so it hurts, albeit less,
My sin that I cannot confess.
Like an old wound numbly stings,
When weather changes, and rain brings.
It's a limping leg, it is.
But free of teeth, of a bite that's his.
It's functional, it does it's job,
Despite the faint random throb.
Will it ever heal? Be right?
I don't know. I hope. It might.
But I never had such a sore -
I'd never been in love before.
07.04.2021. (for S.)