The Particular Blue of a Bruise on Day Three

In the mirror, it shouts—this bruised, tender skin,

a patchwork of colors, a canvas of me.

On day three it swells, I can feel the old din

of clumsy encounters, more lessons than glee.

I press on the surface, and memories stir,

a fleeting reminder of what I once thought

would make me feel stronger, but now it’s a blur—

just a tale of the moment that life had just caught.

Blue runs into green as I blink away pain,

a dance of the heart wrapped in shades of regret.

This mark whispers loudly, as I try to feign

a strength that I borrowed, a truth I can’t forget.