Wounds and the Un-Fading
Vyolet Ashley


I have a bruise on my chest from falling down the rabbit hole and
straight into you
It is an amalgam of purple and yellow
trapped just below the surface like any minute I could bleed out

See this wound goes straight to the core
like you punctured my heart on your way out of town
but it’s hard to stitch myself up when every song
stings like Bactine and every love letter written is my own elegy

I threw my mind into the wash with a polo and my softest socks
But my memories of you didn’t fade and
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved
If it’s true what they say in old poetry then maybe it’s better to let myself lose you

But, see, I never had you in the first place
I just happened upon you by fate or luck
One time after another
And then nothing;

The purest kind of torture there is--
The kind where you aren’t there and my luck has run out
When I finally see you it leaves me teary and alone in the bathroom
and Schrödinger’s phone call won’t save anyone now
 
 
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