Arteries arch away from my ribs in protest
Bruises bubbling over bones come to rest
Capillaries crack as blunt force breaks against my back
Tattoos that remind me of everything that I lackMy skin is too pale to hide the dark patchwork
Of yellow and purple that bitterly lurks
But humanity help me out, with their requests
To torment those who expose too much fleshI bandage my battle scars with nought but a dress
Cotton chafes against me, but they're impressed
Pain hides underneath the easy disguise
Makeup paints happiness over black eyesVeins burst in vain with vermillion blood
In the hope of attention if they let loose a flood
But the clingy red passion of the cold fabrics
Absorbs all the drips and onwards time ticksSoon there'll be no disguise
I'll just internalise
Hiding distress
In that bloody red dress***
So, again, a poem I'd rather not explain. Take it as you wish, and assign your own meaning to it. It'll never mean the same to you as to me, because we all have different pasts, and I don't want to taint the way you view it. I meant this to be taken both metaphorically and in a more literal sense, so whichever you picked is fine.
If you liked it and it gave you some inspiration, then drop a few lines of poetry into the comment section.
Have a great day everyone, I appreciate those reading so much.
Alex xxx
YOU ARE READING
Under My Sofa
PoetryWhen I was little I wrote in the space under my sofa. Now I write on top of it. That's not poetic. I'm just too big to fit underneath anymore.