Bruised
God bless my bad decisions.
Even though you were my worst one.
We always loved like this: rough and not enough.
I know no other way.
Therefore, I have no apologies.
Word to the wise; it’s safer to burn bridges.
Because he told me, I looked good in bruises.
Is this what happens when fathers don’t love their daughters?
Lay me down to rest; I want to dream again.
‘Cause 22 ain’t that young—
at least, not this time around.
What happened to us?
We always said we’d get it right.
You looked so good, with a cigarette and a smile.
You were everything I wanted.
You’re what I see in the mirror.
I can’t remember the last time I liked what I saw.
Even before you told me
you loved me,
You told me
I looked good in bruises
God damn baby;
What have you been doing to me lately?
I don’t recognize myself.
Submitted: November 19, 2018
© Copyright 2022 Cai Kuu. All rights reserved.
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Bert Broomberg
Good poem, disturbing content though.
Tue, November 20th, 2018 11:18am