Bleeding inside and out

 

We all bleed for different reasons

White sneakers turned red from too many crooked paths

Sipping coffee in a diner because itís safer

That going to breakfast elsewhere

Chatter filling the gaps in the unknown

Ring of cash register in the corner

Struggling to figure out what comes next

After the unfinished meal,

What was the intent of all this

Not love or hate,

Something more subtle,

A quick trip in and out,

No regrets?

Banter on the street, connections

Unrealistic belief that walking and talking

Leads to something real,

no quick trip this, no working things out,

just sun light spilling over the ground before and after

like spilled blood left from dull edge of the butter

knife jabbing into us both,

red dripping down inside both as we stroll

along the sidewalk

friendship made, and later lost

working it out with someone else,

life is a kitchen sink filled with soiled details,

bits of our lives following down the drain

worked out in pain and illusion

almost always related to in some distant way

details spilled out in text like blood

should not be telling you this

how much it hurt, stabbing pains

doesnít mean anything,

except to me,

blood still dripping out of me

with the imprint of my sneaker

leaving me suspicious of every stranger

every smile

every touch of hand

that isnít mine,

working it all out somewhere else

when Iím not around,

filling the space loneliness leaves,

even bartenders seeming a threat

a business card relationship

that seems more than it is

after a few glasses,

shattered pieces of

wine in my chest

as well as yours,

things always good,

always bad

as long as who knows who

gets to choose

where and when

and how to work it out.

Fleeing out to the dark

Street, staggering with the impact

Hoping to get up the hill

Before the blood flow ends,

My roof too short for a long fall

So I have to settle for the Palisades

Never knowing

How I can work it out

Before I go splat at the bottom

Bleeding inside and out

 

 

 

 


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