Kneecap bruise

Concrete caught me off guard,

a sharp crack beneath my skin.

I clutched my knee—red bloom beneath denim,

a heavy pulse that pressed into the marrow.

The bruise spreads slow,

like ink bleeding on pale skin,

a dull ache that won’t let go,

a reminder of how fragile this joint is,

how close to breaking.

I move stiffly,

a slow dance with pain and careful steps,

wincing at the uneven sidewalk,

a bruise shaped like regret,

and waiting to fade.