Little cuts under the cuticle,
nail beds bleedingimperceptible to anyone
except you, and sparingly
you’d lash me outright.
The welts raised and angry
and I would think I needed
secret degradations to grow,
couldn’t fathom them as malicious.
All the while
whispering to myself,
I deserved that one.
Aleathia Drehmer 2009
Published by Gutter Eloquence 5/09
No comments:
Post a Comment