Bruises

We’re hot skin

And aching fingers

Sweating palms clutching

At folds of fabric

We’re teeth biting tongues

And a head aching with

Nightmares.

We’re purple skin,

Bruises we don’t remember getting.

We’re bodies wrapped in bedding

Trapped in the street corners

Of consciousness.

Reviews

[Beatrice Mars]

OOoh I love those last two lines 'street corners of consciousness,' that's brilliant! And i love 'a head aching with nightmares.' Love this muchly!