An Ode To Broken Blood Vessels

On my neck
Bruises lie where her teeth used to be
Dark and yellow on the edges
The harder she bit the more I groaned
I moaned
The more I craved for her
Hide myself behind scarves to keep professional
But when I turn my neck, they still felt sore

On my ribs
The bruises of old finger tips
Pressing into the indents between the bones
I just want to be skinnier
I wanted my ribs to be more exposed
I'll stop eating for days just for someone to say
"It looks like you've lost weight"

On my hips
Bruises form from lying on the hard tile floor
Drunken, slurring
Not cognizant enough to reach my bed
I try to hold back vomit while a concontion of rum and bourbon run through me
I wake up to a headache and bruised hip bones

Theres a story to tell from each dark mark
Each broken blood vessel
I am a walking scripture of all the things not to do