Bruise -------------------------------------------- Misty Lynch How many times have I Suffered your condescension Bruising my belief In me. Vision perforated My heavy, metal machine Sweeping dry, fruitless sand Searching for gold in you. Festering anger Biopsy of the nauseating Lump of you Vacationing in my throat. Breakfast of stale muffins and sour milk. Erupting with polite nods And apologies for Your wrong-doings Your ammonia chapstick Cheshire smile upon your eyes Greedy, canine grin If she might rise To meet those eyes, Judgement Decree of insanity, Sin. She may feel free to cry at movies, Watch soap operas, Carry twins. Be bright While you are brilliant... Scrub herself with oceans Of lotions Designed to entice you in, Contract her intellectual biceps, Let you win. But relax assured She will never endure The bruise of you Again.