BruisesYour hands are bruised again
and I'm wrapping you up with pretty words and bandages
because you're so ugly
while I'm just horrible and horribly attracted to horrible people.
I see your skin
of yellow, purple and green
and your tired dreamer eyes
in all the photo frames
hanging on the walls of this prison you dressed up as a home.
I heard from the woman next door that
your smile is pretty but rare
and the man across the hall said
it runs in the blood and he may be right because
I've seen your blood running.
You push and swallow all your problems
because your mother never told you how to let go.
I don't believe she even knew how
because she loved that man to the day she died
even though he left her for Angeline and
he left Angeline for Augustine
and after that there was Alicia
and last I heard he was living with an Amelia
somewhere in America.
Maybe he had a problem with holding on.
I'm sure you would know better than me.
Sometimes I think