451 press, Poetry

Band-aid and Bruises

It is a dream you are selling

to the neediest girl,

about fancy rides in cars

admiring every part of her body

pretending she is the only woman

on earth that matters

besides your wife

and numerous lovers.

All these band-aids and bruises

you cover up your roles

like a thespian.

Tell me have you discarded morality

as much as you profess?

Have you discovered the ego

is the only thing worth stroking?

Have you forsaken even god

to kiss the devil?

I am too old for fancy cars

and precious poets

who claim to

love me from afar.

When I was eight

I covered up my bruises

with band-aids

they healed.

Now they are invisible.

Who can see the cuts now?

Truly not you,

with your line-up of women

at the door

and your presumption

that I like anyone you have ever met before.

I am not even close

to anything you think I am.

I have not been married three times,

I do not have children from different men

I loved.

I do not have a mental illness,

I do not care for the car you drive

or the clothes you wear,

I do not care about the money

and what I have in my life

I cherish

I hold dear.

And what I’ve lost

I hold even closer.

Your tricks do not work with me

so stop trying.

 

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14 thoughts on “Band-aid and Bruises”

    1. probably because ‘ve been writing for decades, i thank you for noticing the details and the words I selected because I don’t think much when I write, it just comes like waves crashing on a shore

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  6. Pingback: Band-aid and Bruises – Christina Strigas

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