Bruises

Woke up this morning

looked at my bruised body

“Where did they come from?”

I ask myself yet again.

 

Hurts past and present

continue to haunt me,

eroding my confidence,

reemphasizing the pain.

 

“If you’d only dress more feminine…”

“If only you’d wear makeup…”

Credos echoed throughout childhood

created blows to my confidence.

 

“I don’t date girls like you.”

“Sorry, but you could only be a friend.”

Musings of boys I once knew

landed damage to my esteem.

 

“You’re ok, but I hate … about you.”

“You’re not the woman I thought you were.”

Yells from the man I once loved

severely scarred my heart.

 

“What’s wrong with her?”

“There’s something wrong with her.”

Whispers of so-called friends

stabbed me in the back.

 

“You’ve gotta get it together!”

How, when I’m so damaged?

“Not my problem! Just do it!”

Insert bruised ego here.

 

“Let me go!” I screamed at him.

“Not until you listen to me!” he screamed back.

“Let me out of here!” I scream.

Room entrapment and bruised arm is the response.

 

Looking again, I shake my head.

“Today will be different, right?” I ask again.

Tiredly, I find no words of encouragement

and cover the bruises for the day ahead.

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