Bruises
My heart is discoloured with bruises
they don't hurt, now. Only when touched.
Battered, bleeding, sensitive
Evidence of the wound, of the blow
You gave me.
Ugly, twisting clouds of hurt
Paint my skin.
Blue melancholy, jealousy, twisted purple rage
And black
Black storm-clouds draw near.
they don't hurt, now. Only when touched.
Battered, bleeding, sensitive
Evidence of the wound, of the blow
You gave me.
Ugly, twisting clouds of hurt
Paint my skin.
Blue melancholy, jealousy, twisted purple rage
And black
Black storm-clouds draw near.
♠ ♠ ♠
Again, this is a poem that I wrote in anger; my boyfriend cheated on me, so I transcribed the hurt into words. Here, I used colour imagery to symbolise the relevant emotions, and turned the emotional 'blow' into a physical hurt so that I can communicate the pain to the reader.