Friday 9 December 2011

Marks

Two little bruises
give you away
one on my right wrist
one on my left.

Imprints of your thumbs
as you held me
like I was the only thing
keeping you afloat.

Now just smudges,
like newspaper print
but the stain of you
lingers.

I touch them
to remind myself
for one moment
I was needed.

Now I watch them
yellow
into the pink of my skin
like leaves
rotten.


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