Bruises of Love

Why do we poke our bruises? 

Is there something in our minds that trigger this desire? 

Why is this pain so appealing?

Why can’t we let our bruise heal without making them worse by pressure?

Why don’t we poke each other’s bruises? 

It is because we don’t know the others threshold? 

Are we scared to push them over the edge? 

Why do we care when it obvious that the others don’t?

Why do others words turn into a prodding finger, seeking to bring you pain?

Why is there no regard for your feelings when you are no longer needed?

Usually, I look around to see no one around me 

So, when you try to bring me pain 

It simply means there is a person with me.

You care enough to stay to hurt me so I can care enough to take the pain. 

And when you go away, I will be sure to inflict the same pain on myself.

So, when you come back, I am ready.

I promise to stay as damaged as you left me

In your absence, I will give myself a constant reminder that you are gone.

I will be ready to take all the pain in the world if it brings you happiness

Years on top of years I have caused you emotional pain, just as you have done to me.

But we don’t talk about that because you don’t even know there are bruises to poke at

If you knew my weak spots, you would only exploit them. 

My bruises will heal again when you return for me

My skin will be restored back to its ivory coloring with no damaged spots

It will be as blank of a canvas for you to destroy again with your words and your actions. 

So I will continue to let you keep me bruised and battered. 

I’m not sure why I do it, maybe it’s for love.

Because after all isn’t love the biggest bruise of them all?

I do have a question for you.

How are you still confused about why I am incapable of love?

I have hurt you in the past but the pains you feel, I do too. 

Self-harm brings me relief 

so maybe in a way hurting you, hurts me

“I am sorry” are only words traded between us 

Losing more and more value every time we exchange this 

I don’t know how many more times I can say it.

But isn’t that part of the problem?

Our cycle?

We make each happy

Then our love turns to unspoken annoyances

Then our unspoken annoyances turn into hatred 

Then our hatred turns into painful words that leave us with only our unique bruises.