over and over,
slowly the bruise does bloom,
soft as the edges of a song
the tune pulled out slowly like a secret,
what do these broken blood vessels prove
but an impression of past regrets
and corners that move
and falling through the roof,
a flower of chastisment, resentment of healing
as purple changes yellow to green,
memories whisked away by function of time
and chemistry
a thumbprint, like your love, left in distress
and a compression of tissue, compacted to bone
over and over,
forever.

12/03/2011

Posted on 12/03/2011
Copyright © 2024 Vikki Owens