i've a bruise on my arm. a small bruise... but not inconspicuous. a love bruise... made from the bonding of body to body. a blue bruise... like the color of the flame that lit our love.
today: i rested my arm against a cushion. my bruise clamored... reminding me it was there... and of how it had come to be. i need but rest my arm against something: a table... a sofa... myself. and the reminder is there. bolder than the moment that created it.
my kneecaps are shot. too many years of sprinting. the doctor once told me not to squat down if i can help it. i can help it. but i don't want to. i squat down on my shot knees so i can see this bruise better in a certain angle of light.
i squat down. and nothing will bring me up.
i am down: with bruise. with pain. with memory. with you.