the bloodstain

the bloodstain dark brown on bright white textured sheets

i’m so sorry. it’s just i’ve been bleeding for so long i didn’t see it

 

until it dried. now it’s there, evidence of my inadequacy, of my

disgusting life and habits, the scabbing, the nonstop blood and

compulsion to keep picking for more. more blood for me. more

 

wounds across my body. scarred. ugly and horrific. if you only

knew what was under my clothes you would lose it. look at me

 

different. i’m not the friendly girl on the phone or the woman who

smiles brightly when you enter the office. i’m not the person making

 

you laugh or making you think hard about the state of the world.

the bloodstain dark brown on bright white textured sheets.

 

wounds across my body. scarred. ugly and horrific. i’m not the

sweetheart doing you favors without pay to preserve some

good on this earth. i’m nothing like that. i’m rotten and nasty;

 

a walking sore, always oozing, never healing. a black hole of

self-destruction and regret. i’m so sorry. i’ll clean it right away.

One thought on “the bloodstain

  1. This poem is very moving, very effective at engendering empathy in the reader, in spite of the vivid images of blood and sores. This line struck me the most: “a black hole of

    self-destruction and regret” – sad and lovely.

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