Friday, January 31, 2020

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)

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