Bruises of Hope
Dear ex,
Your words as sharp as knives scrape slow and deep across my skin
They aren't words.
It is the blade you told me I needed.
It wasn't love I was feeling.
I found safety in your danger.
I wasn't finding satisfaction in the way you held me anymore
I found hope in every bruise you stamped onto my skin.
It was hope you would one day return to the man I loved
But..
You aren't the man I loved, only the shell.
-Tori Casey
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: