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.
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.