Butterfly Bruises
Mat gives me flowers
and I get butterflies.
He holds my hand like
he’ll never let me go.
His eyes say
I am his.
Mat gives me bruises
and I know he’s sorry.
It’s because, he says,
he loves me too much.
My hand holds too weak,
my eyes say too little,
and he forgets that
I am his.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.