Your Bruises

New guest post from the divine @ThundarKitteh. Read, revel, enjoy. See her previous guest post, “Kitteh Litter,” here.


HOWDEH! So my poetry is the polar opposite of my previous entry. Very sad and depressing, but it addresses a reality for far too many of us. Let me know if you want any background info on this one for the blog. I don’t mind talking about what I went through, I just figure it’s not all that interesting when simply told. I think by creating a character who has suffered more than I have helped me deal with it better than anything else I tried.


Your Bruises (Backward Waltz)

So much blood in the carpet
It always had such a lovely pyle.
But the house needs to eat…again.
You left me worse than last time,
I hope you’re having fun at the tavern.
And I will wear your bruises
While I clean the sanguine marsh.
These bruises, lacerations and lumps
Are in fact yours, but you say
They look so much better on me.
So I will wear your bruises
Because you can’t.

I forget why it is that I love you,
I have to, because I’m still here
Painting my face with Bactine and stage make-up.
If I’m still covering up for you,
That means I must still care, right?
My skin is a gothic rainbow, imported my tears from the Dead Sea
This T-shirt my mother bought for me from some stupid catalog
Is now, like me, a rag only to be seen indoors.
Too much evidence of your little dictatorship,
I remember the first time you choked me
You left dark violet gills on my throat
And I wore them with false pride.
Now that I’ve tripped on this liar’s spiral staircase
I’m tired
So tired
So I will wear your bruises
No longer caring that your Daddy gave them to you.
If you really are so strong,
You keep them to yourself.
So I will wear your bruises,
Your abrasions, your scars-to-be
Wile I stare at this glassy web in the mirror
Some of my broken hairs are embedded in the center,
An abused spider with no roots.
I look at the bottle of All-Purpose Cleaner:
“Tough on Messes! Cuts Thru Grime!”
And yet, all its purposes amount to a bottle of shit.
So, as I laugh at my new-found freedom,
Bruises and all,
I drive, floating toward the universe filled with the ones
With the metal stars, the guns, the power
To toss you to the cages lions.
I hope you’re having fun at the cafeteria
Finally wearing your own bruises
Because mine have faded away.



Filed under Feminism, Middle East

3 responses to “Your Bruises

  1. Hope Cueva

    This entry is amazing and I totally admire your writing. Thank you for sharing

  2. lowecat

    Wow! A very interesting look at the way a beating victim thinks and feels. I’m impressed.

  3. Appreaciate for the work you have put into the article, this helps clear away some questions I had.

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