She gave you bruises
Bruises that won't heal
But you don't blame her
Because you loved her so much

So everytime you feel sad and
Miss her more than ever
You begin to scratch them up
And watch them bleed

Just to feel the pain again
The pain feels so real
That's exactly what you want
Feelings that are real

It was in that one second between her falling down and getting up that she made the decision to never let herself get that low again.

Bruises vivid in her pale skin.
Blood actively pouring from her nose every other day.
Anxiety and fear running through her veins around every turn.

Fairytales never show you what happens after the honeymoon phase.
They don't show you what happens when the prince lets go of his cool composure and just wants to beat the **** out of you.

He didn't need alcohol.
He didn't need drugs.
He liked the adrenaline he likes the feeling of prey and predator.

In between that one second of falling down and getting back up she made the best decision of her life.

To switch the roles of predator & prey.

if you were right,
and i was wrong,
i swear to you,
i'd write a song,
before  our love,
went,
to ****,
just goes to show,
emotional,
is not the best to describe a fist..
no,
so here it goes,
i'll soften the blow,
just so you know,
i've let it go,
and i see your
smiling face once again,

but oh,
you let me cry it out,
you stayed up in your head to pout,
you claim the bruises on your brain,
were from me,
and not the rain,
that falls with tears,
i must admit it,
as it appears,


you still blame me.

Don't tell me to get in the shower "It'll make you feel better,"
When you are the one who caused the bruises,
the internal ache,
the tears stained on my face,
the nightmares when I close my eyes,
and the PTSD everybody thinks is a lie.

after the ***** red day
her dry tongue bruises
the evening
with burning blue songs

lavender bruises pool beneath his silvery eyes
as reminders of being struck by sleepless nights
he hides beneath hooded view
and speaks unwavering truth
he spares no words for the sake of your tears
before thrusting a rusted foil into your heart

pink satin shoes,
i've wanted,
false;
needed,
since i was six years old,
i craved the bruises and the blood,
that comes with pirouettes
the hot blisters,
bubbling with possibility,
the possible pain,
that comes,
with my first pair of pointe shows