The Bloom of Bruises

I mistook

his cruelty

For constellations

Each bruise blooming

like a star across my skin

A map I traced

with trembling hands

Learning to call pain

by sweeter names

He wore ruin

the way others

wear crowns

and I

a willing

subject

Bent my knees

in reverence

Offering my

heart like kindling

to his flame

The first time

he broke me

It was

delicate

a fracture so soft

I wept with gratitude

Drunk on the beauty

of the shatter

I did not run

I bloomed

in the bruises

Pressed my love

deeper into the cracks

Aching for every

place he might

carve his name

There was

no violence

he could offer

That I would not

have kissed into prayer

No blade

he could

wield

That I would not

have welcomed

like a lover’s mouth

In the garden

of our undoing

I was the flower that

begged to be

Trampled

By Samantha Pruitt

Author's Note

Been working on so many poems and this one was born from their remanents

Reviews

[Bare trees]

There are times when loneliness pushes us into situations that, at first, seem exciting. It may even seem like an answer to our problems. But unfortunately when violence is introduced it is a sure bet it's not going away anytime soon. I'm sorry you're going through that Samantha.

Your writing here is clear and describes your situation in a poetic way. Great poem.