Anemic.

by Poet on the Piano   Feb 25, 2021


Trauma lives in this body;
it builds a nest with handcrafted
spears and fight-or-flight and
threads of a fragmented heart.

I'm hidden here, naked and
shivering, my fingertips ashen.
Even the white linens look
ghostly. I don't have the
energy to lift myself into the
bathtub, and even if I did,
the water would tempt the
weakest parts of me.

There are shapeless bodies
festering in the drain, unloved
identities poked and prodded at.
Grime and agony refuse to
be bleached - their residue
blackens my organs.

The unexplained bruises on my
thighs ask me questions. I am glad
I don't have the answers.

For once, I'm just as nameless
as the trillions of blood cells
in my body, and just like them,
I'll eventually be eradicated.

5


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Skyfire

    So unique. And I love the title!

  • 1 month ago

    by Em

    My goodness.... I'm say weeping at this, that ending just wow!!! I'm sorry I can't say much else but this got me right in the feels

    Take care xx

  • 1 month ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    superb, though if i were nit-picking, the handCRAFTed does sing/rhyme with the last word in that stanza and that upsets the flow from this, otherwise thought provoking piece.

    As always nice work that i am fortunate enough to read for free!

    • 1 month ago

      by Poet on the Piano

      I appreciate it and see it now so thanks! Will take another look at it.

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