Sunday, May 2, 2010


*potentially bad pseudo-poetry/venting

Three, four hours later.
I searched the bathroom walls.
Which corner snatched skin from my thigh as I fell,
In exchange for a bruise?

I looked for the surface
Where I bumped my chin.
Must've supported me for a moment,
gave me a red spot, too.

Did I call out his name loud enough?
Did I form the sounds,
push them out with my lungs?
Blackness was surrounding me-
I had no time to wonder.

I must have.
"What happened?"
He said, rushing in.
"Did you hit your head?"

He was nowhere to be seen.
I heard him.
I felt his arms around me.
I hung on with all I had.

1 comment:

  1. Powerful. Sorry this happened to you. Glad you are so expressive. What a way with words.