Passing by the sea shore, meditating the moving waters.
As moving as those stories behind my bruises.
In a pond of thoughts I’m diving, in the waters of losses I’m trying to
survive, in the gardens of blessings, I’m thankful.
Those bruises that are delicately embroidered like the reddish veins
throughout my body, like this old necklace or that photograph someone gives you
before leaving, just hoping that you’ll always remember them no matter what
happens, no matter where the sturdy waters of life take us to.
That phrase someone says before leaving.
The bruises I have narrate the stories of the times my heart became
lifeless.
Drained of energy and taken out of life.
It ravishes me every time I believe that someone might be a blessing in
disguise, but a blessing turns to be a curse.
A curse that easily shreds my insides
I’m sometimes foolish to myself, I pent up my tears when they are
supposed to be let go of
But I sometimes get flashbacks to those moments I had before being hunt
by many scars and shallow dreams.
I get aroused by the countless times I may have fallen in love
A love that is now a bruise, but it had its own shine for a while
A shine like that of the sun, so beautifully bright and when it’s time
to say ‘’goodbye’’
I still have this flicker of beautifully assembling shine in my mind
My either mental or physical bruises have tragically, yet strongly built
me.
A bruise comes in many forms, it could rise from your clinical
depression, the thought of not being enough, a sickness you have trying to
fight for too long and the fear of being a failure.
It could arise from lots of things, but your bruises reflect everything
about you.
They reflect the beautiful person that you’ve become.
They have ornamented you as much as they’ve might been a living curse to you.
