Could it be
your touch
that hurts me?

Left on my arm
Black, blue, and green

These
bruises
like
to
tell
the
truth
Voice
silent
as
I
cover
myself
and
find
I still
love him

Black, blue, and green
spreads to and
above my
heart

My body a canvas
of his three favorite colors

A signature of love
From,
The Abuser

Speak of love in the world where it has belonged for years,
Since the dawn of the sun,
In its waves of birthed glory unto the world,
Speak of love in all it has been and will be.

For I know of love as a grasshopper may,
I am merely a follower in its almighty
merely a follower in its glory
and I am in its pain.

Assuming you knew
How is it that you did not
Did no one tell you?

Brian Hill - 2019 # 327

Do what your head tells you to
Before it tells you not to.

when your laugh is a cry for help
how can we tell?

your mouth is twisted upwards
into a cascade of muscles and sunshine
where we will never find the darkness

when your dark words tell a brighter story
how can we tell?

the words so dear to you to us
have rebelled against their meaning
"vague and unclear" is vague and unclear

when your long sleeves hide beautiful scars
how can we tell?

they don't roll up
even on sunny days
concealing a cursed tale etched in your skin

when the sun never sets
how will we ever gaze upon the moon?