Bleed

The only way I could deal
with the end of us,
with what seemed perfect
turn into the opposite of love
(is it hate?)
was by engraving the loss on to
my skin,
watching the needle etch patterns
on to my soul,
watching blood bleed with
the truth:
that you showed me what
love is,
but also
what it is not
(is it hate?)

Copyright Hiraeth 2015
PAD Challenge Day 12:
For today’s prompt, write a damage poem. Since my baby brother is a storm chaser, my mind usually jumps straight to storm damage. However, there’s more than the physical damage created by things like hurricanes, trains, and war planes. There’s also the emotional and psychological damage we inflict, survive, and conceal. The bright side of any damage is that it can be transformed into a poem.

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