The Truck Poem

I woke up one morning

and spit out blood

without any idea of 

where it came from

or if it was even mine

but I'm pretty sure

the blood on your knuckles

matched my DNA

again

It was the same DNA

on your windshield

when you decided it should get

acquainted with my face

and it got very well

acquainted with my face

and my ribs

and my knees

And your truck

which didn't survive

whatever lesson

you were trying to

teach me

crumpled

like paper

on its side 

where I had already folded myself

into a ball for safety

And I was still looking

for safety

when I was climbing over

your body 

to find a way out

so you can probably blame me

for that broken collarbone

but I don't care

Because I still find myself

climbing over memories

and spitting out blood

to find a safe place

~VoodooRue (November 2018)